


stay forever, forever (even if i don't stay together)

by woobot (lu_woo)



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Doctor Jung Jaehyun, Doctor Kim Dongyoung, Doctor/Patient, Dolls, M/M, Past Abuse, Past Relationship(s), Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-27
Updated: 2019-10-13
Packaged: 2020-02-07 10:36:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 21,230
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18618901
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lu_woo/pseuds/woobot
Summary: “You act like I’ve never done this before,” Doyoung says flatly.“I just don’t think you realize how hard this is going to be,” the other moves his arms again, crossing them over his chest. “This is the most damaged doll I’ve seen.”With an inhale, Doyoung pushes the door handle down, opening the door enough for him to hear the soft hum of music playing through the speakers in the hallway. “You called me for a reason.” Doyoung steps out of the small office, hand holding the door open as he stares at the other, watching as he takes a deep breath. “I’ll have him back by the end of the month, no later.”





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> { warnings: **mentions of past abuse; graphic depictions of medical procedures; graphic depictions of wounds/injuries** }

Doyoung sighs, neck tilting enough for it to crack, fingers gripping the handle to his briefcase tighter. His free hand grabs onto the swinging handle that nearly hits him in the face as the subway car jolts and sways. Doyoung lets his cheek rest against his arm, wrist tilting and eyes narrowing at the time on his watch. He’s late, something rather unusual for Doyoung. Though, the call he got only an hour ago, requesting his assistance, was also rather odd. 

They agreed to meet at six-thirty and when six forty hits as Doyoung steps off the subway, he realizes he should have anticipated rush hour clutter. There’s far too many people, teenagers laughing and carrying on as they push him out of the way to get on the escalator. There’s the elderly couples that take their time figuring out which way to go, stopping suddenly and Doyoung nearly bumps into them. Then not to mention the family with the large collection of luggage that are standing in a wide line, practically blocking off the way he needs to go. Fingers push his glasses up on his nose, brows furrowing with determination as he walks with heavy feet to the exit. 

The cold air hits his face, quickly making the tip of his nose turn pink. It’s barely winter but the cold is something that Doyoung can’t stand. So even in the beginning of November when there’s still leaves on the trees, Doyoung bundles up like it’s January. There’s a peacoat about two sizes too big for him that’s keeping him warm, tan color matching well with the black jeans and black turtleneck. The scarf wrapped around his neck might be slightly too much, (it’s truly not that cold out) but Doyoung would rather be hot than cold. 

The scarf gets loosened when Doyoung steps into the office building. He takes a moment to bow to the security guard before he’s on his way to the elevator, feet tapping loudly against the polished floor. There’s no one around, as expected. It’s past the end of the work day, time now reaching near seven. Even though the building is nearly empty (save for the two woman with cleaning carts when Doyoung steps off the elevator), the streets were crowded, groups of people gathering for dinner, hence his lateness. 

Fingers reach up to push his glasses up when Doyoung stops in front of the room he needs to be at. He sucks in a breath, one for good luck because the person he’s meeting isn’t always... all the way there, especially not this late into the evening. Doyoung’s fist knocks on the door, eyes flickering at the watch on his wrist before dropping his hand as the door handle starts to turn downwards. 

“Doyoung,” the man in front of him says. As expected, his glasses are askew, hair rather disheveled, and there’s crumbs on the corner of his mouth. “You’re late,” he says, pulling the door open wide enough for Doyoung to fit through.

The man has a cookie in his free hand and he quickly shoves the rest of it in his mouth before shutting the door behind them, fingers fumbling against the lock. “Don’t act like you would have been ready on time.” 

“Touche,” the other hums, fingers tugging on the top of his ear. “You’re here now and that’s all that matters.” The boy tilts his head at his fingers, rubbing them on the long white lab coat that’s a little too big. “Let’s not waste time.” 

Doyoung settles down in the plush leather chair, bag resting against the side of it on the floor. There’s papers scattered across the desk in front of him and Doyoung watches as the other attempts to collect them and put them in a neat pile. It doesn’t work well though, and there’s a rather uneven, sloppy, stack that gets pushed off to the side. The other sits down in the chair across from Doyoung, letting out a soft sigh, fingers pushing and tugging at his bangs. There’s a soft oh before he digs through the stack of papers, one hand attempting to hold the pile together as he pulls out a single sheet. 

“He’s in Gimpo right now,” the other says, finger tapping against the piece of paper on the desk between them. “Johnny should be back in a few days with him.” 

“Yuta,” Doyoung starts, brows furrowing as he stares down at the paper in front of him. “You know I don’t-” he sighs, fingers squeezing at the bridge of his nose. “Can’t Johnny keep him?” 

Yuta purses his lips out, body leaning back in his chair. His hand pulls open a drawer and there’s the crinkling of what Doyoung thinks is a wrapper. Then there’s a cookie being pulled out, Yuta biting into it, not even bothering to chew let alone swallow before he starts talking again. “I know,” he says, licking his lips before reaching forward, tapping his finger against the paper again. “ But he’s in bad shape though and you know I wouldn’t be asking you if he wasn’t.”

Doyoung presses his lips together, he grabs the paper off the desk, pulling it closer to him, eyes scanning the text that’s scattered all over. The first thing that Doyoung notices is the small picture in the corner, one resembling a mug shot of sorts. Soft brown hair, gentle eyes, a nose that glimmers at the tip, plush lips, for being broken, the boy in the picture was beautiful. The words that are next to the picture however, are far less than attractive. 

“Broken hand, arm, and leg?” Doyoung frowns, teeth biting down onto his lip. “Even a hole in his side-- Jesus,” a sigh comes from his lips when Doyoung sets the paper back onto the desk. “Where did you find him?” 

“I didn’t, actually,” Yuta states, another cookie being tugged out from the bag in the drawer. “His maker reached out to me.” The other nods, this time not bothering to take a bite, pushing the whole treat in his mouth at once instead. “Called me at three in the morning, practically hysteric.” 

“You want me to fix him,” Doyoung lets his words trail off, eyes blinking down at the paper again. “Yuta, there’s-- I don’t know if I’ll be able to.” 

The other lets out a laugh, body leaning over the desk slightly, finger wiggling at Doyoung. “Like I said, I reached out to you for a reason. You’re more than qualified, Doctor Kim.” 

“I don’t work on dolls anymore, Yuta.” 

The clock on the wall makes a terrible ticking sound. One that’s broken, big hand twitching roughly against the white of the clock face. Doyoung’s always hated coming to Yuta’s office. It’s hardly organized, only becoming workable when someone organizes it for him. He’s not a messy person, by any means, but the one exception is his office. There’s wilting plants lining the window, soil so dry that Doyoung can see the cracks from across the room. The trashcan to the side is overflowing, balls of paper threatening to fall off over the rim.

“This one doesn’t have a heart.” The statement makes Doyoung blink, eyes meeting the other’s. Yuta has another cookie pressed to his lips, crumbs falling onto the desk. 

Doyoung shifts in his seat, fingers curling around the armrests, nails pressing in gently. The scarf still hanging around his neck suddenly feels tight, despite it being more than loose. The jacket feels like it weighs a hundred pounds, dragging his shoulders down, pushing him into the chair, attempting to make him melt into it, unable to leave. 

“Please,” Yuta says quietly, fingers tapping against the desk. “Fix him up and then I’ll take him from you. That’s all you have to do.” 

With a shaky voice, Doyoung agrees. “When will Johnny arrive?” 

There’s a grin on Yuta’s face, one that Doyoung remembers seeing far too many times. That grin that’s almost as sickeningly sweet as the amount of cookies that he’s eaten in the span of fifteen minutes. A grin that is mesmerizing, immediately drawing Doyoung in, resolve crumbling and heart softening. 

“Friday. I’ll send him straight to your apartment.” 

Doyoung gets a handful of papers on the boy. The medical one, one with information from his owner, and then there’s the one with _terrible_ pictures of his condition. Doyoung bites at the inside of his cheek as his eyes burn holes into the paper in his hands. It’s the worst he’s ever seen. Cracks along nearly every surface of his body. The tip of his nose is missing in one of the pictures and there’s even a large missing piece from his forehead. Doyoung feels his stomach churn at the sight, hands quickly shoving the papers in his briefcase. 

“You know you don’t have to get dressed up like this to come see me,” Yuta says, shoulder pressing against the bookshelf as Doyoung adjusts his scarf, hands tightening it, fingers fluffing the strings on the ends up.

“It’s a formality,” Doyoung responds, tugging his briefcase off the leather chair. “Besides, I know you weren’t wearing that lab coat all day.” 

Yuta laughs, arms crossing across his chest. “It’s a special occasion. Not every day do I get the honor of having the great Kim Doyoung in my office.” 

There’s a smile tugging up Doyoung’s lip when he looks at Yuta, head tilting enough for his bangs to slide to the left. “Is that your way of telling me you miss me?” 

“Bingo,” Yuta says with a click of his tongue and a wink. 

Doyoung smiles, hand gripping the handle of his briefcase. Footsteps are loud, small heels tapping against the hardwood floor as Doyoung walks over to the door. His hand lingers on the door handle, head turning to look at Yuta who’s still tilted against the bookshelf, finger running along the spine of a row of books. 

“I’ll have him back to you by the end of the month.” 

Yuta hums, not looking away from the books. “That’s a confident statement.” Then the boy looks at him, grin on his lips, that same alluring grin. “His maker’s information is somewhere on the papers I gave you. I would contact him if you have any questions on specifics.” Yuta licks at his lips, hand resting on his hip. “And you already know to contact Johnny if you’re in need of any parts.” 

“You act like I’ve never done this before,” Doyoung says flatly. 

“I just don’t think you realize how hard this is going to be,” the other moves his arms again, crossing them over his chest. “This is the most damaged doll I’ve seen.” 

With an inhale, Doyoung pushes the door handle down, opening the door enough for him to hear the soft hum of music playing through the speakers in the hallway. “You called me for a reason.” Doyoung steps out of the small office, hand holding the door open as he stares at the other, watching as he takes a deep breath. “I’ll have him back by the end of the month, no later.” 

 

 

 

 

 

Doyoung stares at the bed in his spare room of his apartment. There’s white sheets peeking out from a blue striped comforter. Four pillows and a long one in front, matching pillowcases as well. There’s a lack of decoration, only the presence of a small fake plant on the nightstand and a pair of curtains. To be fair, Doyoung’s never had anyone stay in the spare room. He rarely has anyone stay over in general and when they do--well, they don’t stay in _that_ room. 

He doesn’t need anything, technically, doesn’t need to spruce it up for the boy that’s going to be staying in the room. It’s fine how it is, for what he is. The boy is not family, not a guest he’s trying to impress or a person he’s attempting to swoon. He’s someone he’s going to fix up and drop off at Yuta’s. No impressing needed. There’s just a tinge of guilt tugging at his heart, knowing he always used to make sure his home was comfy for the other dolls he took care of. 

This is different. Doyoung isn’t going to pamper him like he used to for the others. This isn’t his job anymore, he’s simply doing a friend a favor. Fix him up and get him out. That was the plan. He wasn’t even going to read over his papers to see his likes and dislikes. There was no need for it. He could care less about what animal this doll likes or what color or even patterns that he likes to look at. None of it mattered. With a sigh, Doyoung runs his hand through his hair, teeth chewing at his bottom lip, knowing that it isn’t going to be that simple. It never was. 

Doyoung grabs his phone, hands tugging on a jacket and fingers lingering on a scarf before scrunching his nose up, deciding against it. The cool air hits him as he opens the door of his apartment, making his body shiver. His hand lingers on the handle, debating on going back in and getting the scarf. He shakes his head, hand dropping from the door handle and letting the door close slowly. 

When it comes to decorating, Doyoung is very particular. Things must match, things must be in style, things must compliment him personally. There’s a lot that goes into the paintings he hangs on his walls and the patterned pillows on his couch. Yet here he was, body squeezed into small aisles at the Daiso down the street. 

There’s nothing he would actually want to put in his living room or any room other than the spare one for that matter. It’s all very cheap and childlike, in Doyoung’s opinion. There was no black and white abstract paintings or gold impressionist sculptures that he spent hours bidding for. There was lots of soft colors, pastels even, tons of little fake plants and trinkets that belong in a high schoolers room instead of his guest bedroom. 

Despite this, a basket ends up in his hands, several little decorations weighing it down. There’s nothing big or anything that Doyoung put too much thought into. There’s two small fake potted plants, a cat pillow (one that is flat and can be used as a pillow), and a vanilla scented candle. It’s enough, more than enough, and Doyoung gives himself a small nod, eyes looking down at the basket. 

Somehow between walking away from the aisle he was in and walking to the register, his basket has become fuller. There’s now a mug, a pair of slippers (ones with cats on them), and a shower sponge that resembles a bunny (that one is for him). His eye twitches when he sets the basket on the counter, realizing how he’s suddenly gotten more than he wanted to. 

Doyoung stares at the bag hooked on his wrist when he steps out of the store. He bites at his lip, wondering if he should go back in and return everything. This was really unnecessary. Completely and fully. Yet as many times as Doyoung tells himself that in his head, his heart just can’t follow it. 

 

 

 

 

 

_Given name: Kim Jungwoo_  
Date of Creation: 2056 - 19 - 2  
Age Created: 22  
Type: HHP - BETA 

Doyoung licks his lips, pressing them against the rim of his mug. His eyes stay on the paper as he tilts the mug, taking large gulps of his tea, cheeks puffing out slightly. For the amount of problems that the doll has, there’s an incredible lack of proper paperwork. What documentation he does have, is barely anything descriptive. Short sentences that don’t go into detail about the problem they state. _Cracked skin on sides_. No reasoning, no explanation as to what happened. It’s not Yuta’s doing, the boy is far more in depth than this. So it must be from the maker, someone who is obviously very inexperienced with dolls. 

Those awful pictures are staring at him again when Doyoung flips over the medical examination paper. There’s a handful of images, all scattered unevenly across the surface of the paper. They’re not very good pictures, Doyoung isn’t surprised from the way nothing is really done properly in this stack of paperwork. Most of them are blurry or too close up to see details. 

Luckily, Doyoung is skilled enough to put the pieces together, hand quickly scribbling notes on his own pad of lined paper. _Tip of his nose is shattered; will need to do skin graph to match material. Broken arm; disconnect and fix the skeleton--reattachment determined by skin material._ It’s a lot to take in. There’s more injuries and defects than Doyoung has ever seen on such a young doll. It makes his stomach churn, tea threatening to come back up and all over his papers at the thought of the young boy being abused. There’s no way he could be in that shape otherwise. 

Doyoung sighs, fingers pinching at the bridge of his nose as he sinks against the back of his chair. There’s almost too much work for him. It’s not that he couldn’t do it, he very well can, it’s just, he knows it’s going to take time. Even dolls need days, weeks, perhaps even months to fully heal from injuries. They need check-ups for months after, realignments if things get shifted. Sometimes there’s cracking and even times where their skin simple shatters from not using the proper adhesive for their injury. Time is the last thing that Doyoung has. 

“What are you looking at?” 

Doyoung jumps, body twisting in his chair to look at the boy standing behind him. There’s a lollipop in his mouth, pushed to one side, stick crookedly poking out from his lips. Doyoung pushes his hand through his hair, eyes narrowing at the other. “How did you get in here?” 

The boy shrugs, fingers pulling out the lollipop by the stick, clicking his tongue as he tilts his head. “I still have that spare key you gave me that one time.” 

Doyoung rolls his eyes, huffing as he slumps back into his chair, legs stretching out slowly. “This better be the only time you’ve used it.” He pushes himself up off the chair, hands gathering the papers on the desk, gently tapping them against the surface to line them up. 

“I used it one other time but-” the boy starts, eyes widening and nervous laugh coming from his lips when Doyoung turns to look at him with a glare. “It’s because I forgot something!” Doyoung sighs, hand running through his hair and fingers tugging off his glasses. “Anyways, what were you looking at?” The other stands on his toes, eyes trying to peer down at the stack of papers that Doyoung is putting back into a folder. “That looked like doll medical forms. I thought you-” 

“I don’t,” Doyoung says sharply, words as firm as his grip on the folder in his hands. “It’s a favor. _One_ favor.” 

“Doyoung-” 

“Mark,” Doyoung sighs, hands tucking the folder back into his briefcase he’s set on his desk. “This is going to be different.” The last part comes out breathy, words fading into the silence of the room around them. Doyoung turns to look at the other, fingers curling against his sides. 

Mark presses the lollipop against his lips, pushing it past them gently, the lollipop finding its way back to his left cheek. “If you say so,” he mumbles. 

“What did you come here for? What did you come here _uninvited_ for?” 

“Oh,” Mark says, hand rubbing the back of his neck. “To be honest I just wanted to hang out. It’s been a while.” 

It has been, Doyoung is aware. It’s for a few reasons, not one in particular. Normally he’s busy with his work, spending the majority of his time at the hospital. Other times, he’s got his nose buried into textbooks, studying, learning, trying to improve himself. When he does have time for things unrelated to his work, he wants nothing more than to curl up on the couch with his favorite wine and catch up on those overrated dramas that have him practically throwing himself at the TV in frustration. 

“I can tell you’re stressed,” Mark says, “You always drink tea when you’re stressed.” His finger points to the half-full cup of tea that’s now colder than Doyoung likes. “Drinks on me?” 

Doyoung sucks in a breath, he sticks his hand out, palm up and fingers wiggling at Mark. “Fine but give me back that key right now.” 

Mark rolls his eyes, he huffs around the lollipop as he shoves his hand in his pocket, fingers grabbing the key by the keyring, dangling it over Doyoung’s hand before dropping it. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

There’s hardly anyone at the bar, to be expected for a Tuesday night. A few business men and a group of girls that barely look old enough to be there are the only ones scattered throughout. Even the music is softer than usual, bass barely making its way through Doyoung’s skin. 

They find themselves in a booth, one far too big for just the two of them but it’s always a struggle to get one so they take advantage of it. Doyoung already has a drink in front of him, having picked it up on the way to their seats. Mark is still empty handed, eyes staring at Doyoung’s drink, lips parted and body shifting against the leather seats. 

“Go get your drink,” Doyoung says, taking a sip of his, eyes staring at the way Mark’s eyes tilt downward and if he had a tail, it would be between his legs. Doyoung sighs, setting his glass on the table a little too hard. “You want me to go get you something.” It’s not a question, more of a statement. 

Mark nods, body practically melting into the seat as he lets out a sigh. “I never know what to get.” 

Doyoung rolls his eyes, body scooting out of the booth. His hands tug down his shirt, running his hands down his chest as he walks towards the bar, order on his lips. It takes him no more than two minutes to get the bartender’s attention and order the drink he always orders for Mark. Less than five minutes pass and he’s walking back to their seats, hand slightly shaking as he tries to hold the glass still. 

The other tilts his head, sliding the glass towards him on the table, nose coming dangerously close to the liquid in the cup as he sniffs at the drink. “Watermelon?” 

“I _do_ know you, Mark.”

“Sometimes I feel like you forget I exist,” the other says, licking his lips before pressing them against the rim of his glass, lifting it up enough for the liquid to slide in his mouth. “Mm,” he says with a nod “Good choice.” The boy takes another big sip, this time lifting the glass off the table before continuing. “So,” he says, licking at his lips. “This doll-- I’m assuming Yuta asked you?” 

Doyoung takes a sip of his own drink, nose scrunching up at the way it burns the back of his throat. “Called me Saturday. I honestly shouldn’t have gone,” Doyoung admits with a sigh. “He didn’t give me any context, just that he needed to see me and that it was urgent.” 

“Yeah,” Mark says with a pout, body scooting closer to the table. “He didn’t even call me and I still work for him. It must be bad, yeah?” 

“Worst I’ve ever seen, honestly.” There’s sadness in his voice, something that shouldn’t be lacing through his words, pulling them down. “I should have said no. Shouldn’t have gone at all,” Doyoung repeats, frown tugging his lips downwards. 

“You know you can’t. Especially when it comes to dolls.” 

Mark is right, so terribly right. Doyoung knows this and he knows it well. “You should see the pictures, Mark.” Doyoung’s foot begins to bounce on the ground, heel tapping softly, masked by the music around them. “How could someone treat a doll that way? One that they made themselves. He’s so broken. All the pictures-” Doyoung sucks in a breath, teeth biting down on his bottom lip gently. “He looks so sad, desperate for someone to fix him.” 

“That’s why Yuta called you, Doyoung. You know that.” Mark lifts up his glass, head tilting back and adam’s apple bobbing as he finishes off his drink, letting out a sigh when he sets the glass back down on the table. “No one else can fix up dolls like you can.” 

“I don’t fix up dolls anymore though. I stopped for a reason.” 

“That reason has nothing to do with your skill.” 

“This one doesn’t have a heart,” Doyoung says quietly, unsure if Mark can even hear him over the music. 

The other sighs, hand reaching over to rest on Doyoung’s shoulder. “But you do.” 

“It’s not going to be like that this time.” Doyoung nods, finger trailing down the side of his glass, fingertip collecting the condensation. “I won’t let it happen again.” 

“You shouldn’t be ashamed of it, Doyoung,” Mark starts, fingers pressing into Doyoung’s shoulder. “You and-” 

“Please,” Doyoung breathes out with a gentle laugh. “I didn’t come out with you for this.” 

Mark’s hand slides off of Doyoung’s shoulder and he sits back properly in the booth, hand running through his hair slowly. “Sorry,” he laughs, sucking in a breath. “Um,” he pauses before looking at Doyoung. “How’s work?” 

Doyoung sighs, grabbing his glass and quickly drinking the rest of his beverage. “Fine,” he says quietly, lips still pressed against the rim of his glass. “Hours are getting longer because the holidays are coming.” 

“Oh!” Mark says, hand hitting against the table. “That reminds me,” he smiles, body leaning over towards Doyoung slightly. “We should all get together again. You know, like we used to hang out!” 

There’s a smile that creeps on Doyoung’s lips, curling them up in the corners. “I would like that,” he says with a grin that grows the more he thinks about it. Having all his friends together again would be wonderful. Maybe they’d be huddled around a coffee table playing a board games, or go out to dinner at a fancy restaurant to catch up, or even meeting at a bar like this— it would be nice either way. 

He’s more or less faded away from his friends these last years. It hasn’t been on purpose, at least not consciously. He no longer needs to text them everyday about work, no longer has to report to any of them about the status of his patients. Doyoung doesn’t work for Yuta anymore and so there’s no real reason other than a personal one to contact his old coworkers, his _friends._

Doyoung presses his finger against the rim of his glass, sucking in a breath, letting it out slowly. It wasn’t his intention to get like this. To become distant, only responding to texts that interest him. It’s just, after what happened, he needed to get away. And getting away meant away from things that reminded him of the situation. So maybe he did mean to become the person who only responds to things after hours of staring at the message, debating whether or not he wants to engage in conversation. Maybe it's fear that's keeping him away, the fear of someone saying something— anything that could remind him of what happened. 

The truth of the matter is, he misses everyone. Doyoung misses meeting up with Johnny at the cafe down the street in the morning, laptops on the table and coffee mugs in hand as they search for parts they need. Misses eating lunch in Yuta’s office, both of them laughing until their stomachs hurt. Even misses Mark and the way he awkwardly would fumble while he tightens the screws on his own practice doll, eyes wide and mouth letting out nervous laughter every few minutes. Doyoung loved working with the three, loved working on dolls-- it was his passion, lifelong passion. He just, loved it a little too much and that’s how he got to where he is now. Isolated and reluctant. 

“When is your doll coming?” 

Doyoung’s eyes narrow slightly before looking up at Mark. “Friday. Johnny’s returning with him.” 

“Then let’s do it Saturday?” Mark smiles, hand reaching out to press against Doyoung’s. “That way all of us can meet your doll and catch up.” 

There’s a nod before Doyoung speaks with a gentle smile. “Saturday.” 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Doyoung doesn’t work on dolls anymore. He works in the hospital now, fixing real people instead of dolls. There’s real blood on his gloved hands when he has to cut someone open to work on their heart. Humans are put to sleep when he’s sticking needles through their skin, sewing their heart back together, not staring at him holding a conversation like dolls can. Fixing up humans is much different than fixing dolls. 

There’s the soft beeping to his right. It’s a steady rhythm, one that matches the heart that’s pumping in front of him. Doyoung tilts his head, enough for it to crack, before he sucks in a breath, eyes narrowing as he lets his eyes refocus to his hands. This is his second surgery of the day, the easier one. Technically none of the surgeries his does is exactly _easy_ , but in terms of familiarity, this one wins. Yet, for some reason, his eyes keep unfocusing. His mind keeps wandering and his hands keep stalling, fingers almost dropping the tweezers in his hand. 

“Doyoung,” the woman across from him says. “Do you want me to finish? You’re tired.” 

The answer is normally no, Doyoung likes to do things fully, hardly ever using his assistant. He likes to be the one to open the chest and the one to close it. This is _his_ surgery. But he finds his hands shaking slightly and Doyoung may have his pride, but he knows better than to let it get in the way of someone’s life. 

“Yeah,” he breathes out in defeat. “Sorry,” he says, brows furrowing. 

“It’s okay,” the woman laughs out. Doyoung watches her hold her hands out, tweezers being put into her hands by the tech to Doyoung’s left. “You’ve had a long day. This is my job anyways.” 

Doyoung pushes the large metal doors open with his back, heavy footsteps echoing throughout the quiet room. He takes his time washing his hands, putting more soap on his palms each time he’s washed it all away. Doyoung doesn’t keep track of how many times he does this. Instead, his brows furrow with each thought that travels through his mind. It’s been like this since he left Yuta’s office, his mind wandering, eyes focused blindly on whatever is in front of him, unable to move, speak even, he just stares as he runs through the extensive paperwork of scenarios in his head. 

The sound of the doors hitting against the walls is what breaks Doyoung out of his gaze. He sucks in a breath, foot sliding off the pedal that’s kept the water running. Soon, the sound of the water fills the air again, the sink next to him being turned on. Pale hands are pressing together under the water, fingers curled and scratching at the opposite palms. Doyoung watches in silence, his own hands dripping into the deep sink under them. 

Doyoung takes his time leaving the locker room. It takes far too long for him to tug his white coat on, too long to make sure his tie is straight, and even longer cleaning his glasses. He doesn’t have to be anywhere in particular. There’s no more patients to see or operations for the day. It’s his own time he’s wasting now. So maybe he’s not in any particular rush to go back to his office. 

There’s almost permanent creases between his brows, eyes narrowed and concentrated on nothing in particular when he finally settles down in his chair. Doyoung leans back, fingers reaching up to pinch at the bridge of his nose. His head is spinning, pounding with a headache that’s been building up since before lunch. It’s most likely due to the amount of coffee he’s consumed and the lack of food. 

Then there’s the almost complete absence of sleep, only one or two hours being passed in the night without his mind working overtime. It’s been nearly three years since he’s had this much cluttering his mind. Not even the stressful days with more than a handful of operations make him like this. All he can think about is what’s going to happen tomorrow. It would be the start--or return-- of something that Doyoung was certain that he put behind him. 

With a sigh, he pushes himself out of the chair, letting it roll back along the floor until it bumps against the heavy filing cabinet behind him. A hand runs through his hair, pushing his black bangs back several times as he walks towards the makeshift coffee bar he’s set up in the corner of his office. 

There’s no coffee coming out from the Keurig, instead, it’s clear water. The clearness fades when the water reaches the tea bag that’s pressed against the side of his mug. Doyoung watches the way swirls of transparent brown start to fill the water and with one bob of the teabag when he pulls the mug out from under the machine, the clearness has completely faded away. 

“Stressed?” 

Doyoung tilts his head, eyes blinking at the figure leaning against the doorway of his office. He presses his lips together, fingers tugging on the string of the tea bag, watching the way the water rises when he pushes it down and how it shallows when he lifts it back up. Doyoung keeps his eyes on the other as he walks into the room, quickly making himself at home on the small couch he has pressed against the large windows. 

“Tomorrow, right?” 

Doyoung frowns, thumbs pressing against the hot ceramic of his mug as he looks at the other, body gently leaning against the small cart. “How do you know?” 

“Well when my date for the night got a call at three in the morning and then proceeded to get dressed and then told me he’d be back Friday, I _do_ have to ask some questions.” The other laughs, fingers flicking one of the handles to the drawers on the left side of Doyoung’s desk. 

“It’s going to be different,” Doyoung says for no particular reason. The boy across the room hasn’t asked about anything. Only the day when his doll is supposed to arrive, nothing else. Yet it came out of his mouth so quickly, he couldn’t stop it. There was no reason to say it, none at all, other than the fact that he just has to keep repeating it to himself.

There’s the smallest of smiles coming from the boy at the desk. One that has his lips barely curled up, the weight of sadness preventing it from being a proper smile. As he presses his lips together, Doyoung watches the way his cheek sinks in, dimple becoming noticeable. 

“Just don’t get too worked up over it,” the other says, fingers twirling one of the many colorful pens that Doyoung keeps in a simple holder on the corner of his desk. “You still have a job to do- _this_ job.”

Doyoung’s brows return to the scrunched state they’ve been in all day. He watches as the other boy sets the pen back in the holder, fingers running along the tops of them. They both know how Doyoung gets when he’s stressed, when his mind is too cluttered to focus properly. Hands become shaky, voice soft, and words come out scrambled when he tries to speak. All things that don’t exactly work well for a doctor, surgeon to be more precise. It’s not often that he gets like this. Maybe once or twice every few months. Even then, it’s subtler than how he’s responding to it all right now. 

“I know,” Doyoung breathes out, hands curling around the mug, squeezing it gently. “I just..” 

There’s too many concerns to voice. Too many _what ifs_ and past memories clashing together to properly put into words. What if it happens again? What if Doyoung can’t separate work from pleasure and he-

“Jaehyun,” Doyoung says quietly, voice barely louder than a whisper. He takes a breath, letting it out with his words “come over tonight?” 

This time, the smile is genuine. Jaehyun looks at him, eyes soft and fingers pushing through his bangs, elbow pressing against the top of the desk. “Sure,” he says, “I have an appointment at six but then I’ll be over.”

Doyoung presses his lips against the rim of his cup, not bothering to try and cool the tea down before taking a sip, eyes locked with Jaehyun’s. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

There’s only two habits that Doyoung has when he’s stressed. It’s a rather low number, considering the amount of responsibility that’s always weighing on his shoulders. These habits only appear when he has too much on his mind and it’s a plea for salvation. They’re hardly regular and this habit in particular, is nothing short of rare. 

There isn’t a mug of tea in his hand, not right now at least. Instead, he has lips pressed against his and a tongue pushed in his mouth, hastily swirling with Doyoung’s. This other habit, sex, is something that Doyoung only reaches out for when he’s too far gone. When the fourth cup of earl grey isn’t working anymore. It’s the only time Doyoung lets himself indulge in something so intimate. 

It’s all purely physical. There’s not a single inkling of romance behind it. All it is, is fulfilling needs, _Doyoung’s_ needs. This is the third time that Jaehyun’s pushed him down on the bed, hands tugging off Doyoung’s black t-shirt. It’s only the third time but Jaehyun’s figured out exactly what to do. He’s learned what kind of person Doyoung is in bed and how to relax him. Figured out how Doyoung likes his nipples rubbed while they make out. How he likes it when Jaehyun grabs his thighs and digs his nails into his skin. The little things that make him gasp out, like having kisses pressed down his neck or when Jaehyun holds onto his thighs, raising his hips up while he fucks him. The simplest of things make Doyoung’s stress melt away. 

That’s what was happening now. All Doyoung can focus on is the way Jaehyun’s fingers are curling up in him, pads of his fingers rubbing against that spot that washes away all his fears and concerns. Doyoung presses the back of his hands against his eyes, knuckles pressed on the tops of his cheeks when Jaehyun looks up at him, lips curled into a grin and dimples pushed into his soft cheeks. 

“Jaehyun,” Doyoung breathes out as his back arches off the bed, eyes fluttering closed when Jaehyun pushes all three of his fingers in up to his knuckles. 

“I know,” Jaehyun responds quietly, fingers curling up and flicking just the way Doyoung likes. “Sorry, you’re tight. Been a while?” 

Doyoung swallows at the question, pushing his hips down when Jaehyun flicks his fingers quickly inside of him. “It doesn’t matter,” he says softly, “ _please_.” 

There’s very little between them after Jaehyun pushes his cock in. Doyoung is on his stomach, ass up and face pushed into the pillow, fingers curled against the sheets. Jaehyun has one hand on Doyoung’s lower back and the other holding his hip. It’s fast and rough, the sound of their skin slapping together echoing throughout the room. 

Jaehyun’s grunts are quiet and he only lets them out when Doyoung clenches around him. Doyoung himself is rather silent, whimpers and gasps coming out breathy and infrequent. There’s one high pitched moan and a hitched breath when he cums, another when he feels Jaehyun’s cock twitch with his own orgasm.

There’s soft pants between the both of them and a laugh from Jaehyun when he lays down next to Doyoung. “Better?” 

Doyoung pushes himself on his back, hand running through his sweaty bangs, eyes narrowing at the ceiling. The silk sheets are cold against his skin, making his back arch slightly, and he doesn’t miss the subtle warmth of stickiness against his back. “Yeah,” Doyoung responds, head turning slowly and eyes looking at Jaehyun’s. “Thank you.” 

Jaehyun smiles at him, dimples sinking into his pink cheeks. “Welcome. Do you mind if I get a shower here though? I’d rather not go on the subway smelling like sex and sweat,” he laughs out, teeth biting down on his bottom lip. 

“Sure,” Doyoung says quietly, fingers curling against the sheet under him. 

He watches quietly as Jaehyun slides off the bed. The way the sweat on his forehead glistens in the soft glow of his nightstand lamp. Watches how a veined hand tugs off the condom, tossing it into the small trash can that’s full of crumpled up notebook paper. Doyoung watches Jaehyun until the bathroom door shut and the hum of the shower starts. 

There’s a part of Doyoung’s mind that urges him to go and join Jaehyun. He needs a shower and it wouldn’t hurt to step in with the other. He doesn’t however, instead he grabs his phone off the nightstand, eyes squinting at the brightness of the screen. Fingers move quickly, thumb tapping on Johnny’s name. Doyoung blinks when his phone freezes for a moment before it starts vibrating in his hands. He presses his lips together, biting down gently as Johnny’s picture takes up the screen. 

“Hello?” Doyoung says as he pushes himself up, hand running through his hair slowly. 

“Hey.” Johnny’s voice is quiet, a whisper really. “I’m going to get back earlier than expected. In about two hours. Do you want me to drop him off tonight or wait until the morning?” 

Doyoung sucks in a breath, hand pressing against his face. It’s not that he has anything more to do to prepare for Jungwoo. The guest bedroom is put together, he’s got (more) food in the fridge, even has his medical bag all put together. He just doesn’t want it to happen faster than it should. Doesn’t want the situation to become more than a thought, more than a set of papers organized neatly on his desk. 

Doyoung’s fingers curl around his phone tightly, lips parting before he nods to himself slowly. “You can drop him off tonight.” He clears his throat, body leaning back against the headboard. “How,” a pause as Doyoung closes his eyes slowly. “How is he?” 

“For his condition,” Johnny pauses with a quiet sigh, “He’s doing amazing. Quiet and shy but that’s to be expected.” 

There’s the sound of car horns in the back, practically confirmation that Johnny’s back in the city. The soft puttering of rain can also be heard, making Doyoung slide out of his bed, toes curling against the cold hardwood floor as he walks over to the window. Fingers gently pull the curtain over, just enough for Doyoung to peer out onto the street below. His eyes watch the way droplets of rain slide down the large window, leaving wet streaks that narrow only to expand when another drop follows the same path. 

Despite the rain, there’s more than enough umbrellas moving together on the street. Groups of three or four, melting together into one as they move. Doyoung watches as a group of teenage boys run until they can all squish together under an awning. The street lights flicker under the steady rain, signs wobbling with the wind, and streaks of water on the window blurring the scene below him. 

“That’s,” Doyoung starts, “good,” he says quietly after too long of a pause. 

There’s hands on his waist and it makes Doyoung gasp, body jumping slightly. He tilts his head enough to see Jaehyun behind him, lips curled into a smile and dimples pushing into his cheeks. Doyoung’s fingers drop from the curtain, hovering over Jaehyun’s hand against his waist. The taller one is still wet, hair dripping onto his shoulder as he stands behind him, thumb brushing against his hip. 

A voice can be heard through the phone, one that’s so soft and gentle. Doyoung can barely hear it but for the short moment he does, it makes his shoulders relax, body leaning back against Jaehyun. It must be Jungwoo. Johnny pulls the phone away from him enough that his voice can barely be heard as he responds to the boy. 

Doyoung’s heart speeds up thinking about meeting Jungwoo. In just a few hours he was going to be responsible for him. Jungwoo may be a doll but dolls need just as much care, if not more, than humans. Jungwoo would still have to eat, bathe, sleep, still need all basic necessities of humans. That isn’t what worries Doyoung though. What worries him is the amount of injuries he has. The amount of both physical and emotional damage that the boy is suffering from. Doyoung knows himself, knows that he’ll get far too invested. That’s what he’s worried about. 

“I’ll be there soon,” Johnny says with a breath. 

There’s no response from Doyoung. His hand pulls the phone away and his finger pushes against the screen gently. Jaehyun’s fingers squeeze at his hip, breath soft against his ear. “Johnny?” 

Doyoung nods, hand running through his hair as he pulls away from the other. “He’ll be here in two hours.” 

Jaehyun hums, fingers tugging on the towel tightly around his waist. “Do you want me to stay?” 

There’s a sigh before Doyoung shakes his head, toes curling against the floor. “No,” he says quietly, “I don’t,” he swallows, head tilting as he looks at Jaehyun with a smile laced with sadness. “I don’t want him to know how stressed I am about this.” 

“You sound like you regret it,” Jaehyun replies, words tugged down with the smallest bit of disappointment. 

“Jaehyun-” 

“I know,” Jaehyun laughs out, hand pushing his bangs back, holding them there until his lips curl into a smile. “I know.” 

Doyoung takes his time getting a shower, not in any rush. He stands under the water that’s too hot for several minutes too long. There’s soap through his hair twice, the second time completely unnecessary. There’s hundreds of thoughts clogging his mind. Ones that have his heart beating fast and his fingers shaking against his sides. Thoughts that have been circling through his mind for the last few days. Ones that have left him with sleepless nights and empty boxes of tea bags. 

Jaehyun is gone when Doyoung steps out of the bathroom. The bed is made, the bottle of lube and condoms are put away. He’s even gone as far as to light Doyoung’s favorite candle, the flame flickering slowly in the dim room. Doyoung takes his time getting dressed, trying to drag out the two hours as long as possible. He goes through three plain t-shirts (all different colors) before he settles on a black one. There’s black sweatpants around his hips and Doyoung sighs when he looks at himself in the mirror. 

It’s not how he wants to look, not how he _should_ look for meeting a new doll. Doyoung is always in a button up, blazer around his shoulders, and dress pants. But right now, he’s practically in pajamas, hair slightly fluffed up and make-up long washed away. Fingers hover over the band of his sweatpants, silently wondering if he should change. It’s nearly nine and by the time Johnny and Jungwoo arrive, it’ll be close to eleven. There would be no point in getting dressed up. Jungwoo will most likely be tired from such a long journey. Doyoung will feed him and get him off to bed tonight, that’s it. There’ll be time for proper introductions tomorrow. 

With a sigh, Doyoung grabs his phone, teeth biting down on his lip. This is going to be different. Completely different. 

 

 

 

 

 

Johnny’s hair is wet, soaked actually. The top of his long jacket is two shades darker due to the rain. There’s glasses on his nose, bottoms slightly fogged up and rain drops lingering on the lenses. The sound of the rain is loud, it’s beating against the half walls that open up the hallways to the outside. Doyoung watches the way the drops bounce off the top of the concrete walls, loud splats and slaps with each large, heavy, raindrop. 

Doyoung parts his lips to ask where Jungwoo is. There’s nobody besides Johnny as he stands in front of Doyoung’s apartment door. As he sucks in a breath to let out his question, Jungwoo comes into his vision. 

There’s a lot to take in, too much if Doyoung is being honest. The boy has a mask hooked on his ears, tugged all the way up over his nose. There’s two large bandages on his cheeks, peeking out of the soft white of his mask. Cracks run along his forehead, ones that are small but noticeable. Doyoung narrows his eyes at the small chip out of his skin right above his eyebrow. Even in the dim light of the hallway, Doyoung can see the tint of red fills the hole where part of his skin is missing. It’s a reminder that Jungwoo isn’t a normal doll. 

Jungwoo is taller than him. Not by much, perhaps an inch or two but it’s enough for Doyoung to notice. He’s got honey brown hair, bangs fluttering gently as the wind blows. Doyoung lets his eyes wander down, watching the way his skin becomes even more cracked when he gets down to the ends of his sleeves. His pale skin is contrasted against his yellow shirt, bits of pink and red scattering along his broken skin. Doyoung’s fingers curl against his pocket, nails digging in slightly. 

Yuta was right, Jungwoo is in terrible condition. Doyoung can tell by the way the space where skin is chipped glimmers as if it’s fresh. The way Jungwoo’s face is covered in bandages and it makes Doyoung’s nose scrunch up at the lack of bandages on his arms. There’s so much to be done. The thought of how many skin grafts and materials that he’s going to have to go through to fix Jungwoo’s skin alone, makes Doyoung’s head start to spin, something that doesn’t even happen when he goes into surgery. 

“Doyoung,” Johnny says with a smile. “This is Jungwoo.” 

Even under the mask and with all the jagged lines along his skin, Doyoung watches the way Jungwoo’s eyes light up. It’s so small, so, so small and if Doyoung hadn’t already been staring at him, he surely wouldn’t have noticed it. There’s more than just that sliver of happiness in his brown eyes. There’s _hope_. There’s _relief_. They’ve only known each other for the two minutes that they’ve been standing in front of each other but Doyoung can read on his face that he trusts him. And that makes Doyoung’s heart sink. 

“Please,” Doyoung pulls his door open all the way, stepping to the side as he stares at the pair. “Come in from the rain.” 

Jungwoo doesn’t have much with him. A bag that hangs off his shoulder, one similar to Doyoung’s own messenger bag, and a small suitcase behind him. Doyoung is the one to shut the door, fingers tugging the handle up and waiting for the sound of the lock before he follows the pair to the living room. 

“Do you want a drink or anything, Jungwoo?” Doyoung’s voice is quiet, careful, unsure of what to ask or really _do_. It’s been so long since he’s had a doll in his home. So long since he’s had to care for one. The routines are all there, the things he used to do, the nerves are simply getting the best of him. 

Instead of answering verbally, Jungwoo shakes his head, eyes looking around the room. Johnny is the one to suggest a shower, to which Jungwoo nods quickly, fingers curling around the strap of his bag. 

“If you tell me where the bathroom is, I would like to wash myself.” Jungwoo’s voice is softer than expected. Doyoung heard an inkling of it on the phone earlier but it’s nothing compared to how he sounds in real life. It’s soft and sweet, probably the nicest voice he’s heard in a long time. Doyoung quietly responds, finger pointing down the hallway. 

He thinks about following the other, making sure he’s okay. Doyoung worries about his wounds, hoping that he doesn’t wash too harshly for more of his skin to come off. His lips part, fingers twitching in the air, wondering if he’s going to need help bandaging himself when he’s done. Jungwoo should apply cream and definitely healing spray as well. Doyoung really should follow him. He steps forward, body stilling when he hears Johnny let out a sigh, body slumping down onto the couch. 

“Sit,” Johnny says softly, fingers pressing against his temple, nose scrunching up slowly. “We have a lot to go over.” 

Doyoung bites at his lip, nodding slowly. Jungwoo was capable of washing himself up. Besides, after all he’s been through, Doyoung doesn’t want to intrude in his space too quickly. If Jungwoo needed anything, he would ask. So Doyoung finds himself sitting across from Johnny, body sinking slightly into the plush leather of one of the matching chairs. 

“He’s-” Johnny pauses, hand running through his hair slowly, “He’s in bad shape. I’m sure you already know that though.” Doyoung nods silently, eyes looking down at the way his knee is bouncing, foot tapping against the hardwood under him. “Though for how bad he is physically, he seems _okay_ mentally.” 

“It’s impossible for him to be _okay_ , Johnny.” Doyoung clicks his tongue, letting his body lean back in the chair as he taps his rests his jaw against his hand. “Even if he is a doll, nobody can be okay from that.” 

“Maybe that wasn’t the right wording.” Doyoung narrows his eyes at the other, watching him as he shifts in his spot, soft creaks from the leather filling the air around them. “I tried to get more information out of him but he said he didn’t want to talk about it.” 

“Did you talk to his creator?” 

Johnny leans forward, elbows on his knees and hands held together as he shakes his head. “No. He wasn’t there.” There’s a sigh, thumbs rubbing against one another. “I was told to meet them at some cafe and it was only Jungwoo when I got there. He was sitting by himself, bags packed and scattered along the table.” Johnny looks up at Doyoung, “I learned a good about him though. Things he likes, dislikes, favorite foods and even his favorite songs.” 

There’s a soft creak of a door from down the hallway, one that makes both Johnny and Doyoung look towards the sound. Doyoung’s body straightens up, ready to walk down the hall if Jungwoo needed something. He only sees the quick outline of him before he disappears into the bedroom, _Doyoung’s_ bedroom. 

Maybe he should have showed him his room first, let him get comfy before getting his shower. It would give him a place to relax after if he didn’t feel like coming back out. It would have been the polite thing to do but it was a little too late for that now. Doyoung lets his body relax back into the chair when he hears the door shut and a quiet click from the lock. 

“The sooner you can examine him, the sooner I can make sure I can get parts for him.” Johnny says slowly, body stretching out as he pushes himself off the couch. “I have some spare things laying around but I’m sure he’ll need more than what I have.” 

Doyoung joins Johnny, pushing himself up, letting his hand run through his hair slowly. “Thanks. I’m going to try to make this as quick as possible.” 

There’s a look on Johnny’s face, one that has his eyebrow raising and the softest click of his tongue. Doyoung parts his lips, head tilting and ready to comment on the look but Johnny beats him to it. “Even I know that it’s not going to be quick, Doyoung. I’m not talking about his recovery either.” 

“I’m not,” Doyoung’s brows scrunch together as he sucks in a breath, eyes narrowing at Johnny. “It’s not going to be like that. How many times do I have to say it? I’m a doctor. I know how to separate personal feelings from my work.” 

There’s a silence before Doyoung watches Johnny walk towards him. A hand on his shoulder and fingers squeezing it before Johnny parts his lips and responds. “Because the one time you didn’t, it changed everything.” 

Doyoung bites at his lip, bites so hard that he has to suck in a breath from the pain. The constant reminder of how he let himself get too personal with a doll is possibly worse than the outcome of it. It’s been years, years that he’s tried to move on. Now all the sudden because he agreed to work on Jungwoo, everyone seems to think the same thing will happen. The worst part is that Doyoung keeps telling himself it won’t happen, keeps telling them it won’t happen. Yet the more the subject comes up, the more he’s beginning to fear that it might. With every reminder of how he let his heart get the best of him, Doyoung begins to doubt his own stability. Wonders if he’s ready to do this, ready to care for a doll again. 

Johnny’s nails dig into his shirt slightly. It makes Doyoung look up at him, lips pursed out into the smallest of pouts. “I can tell you’re stressed.” Two of Johnny’s fingers slide along the curve of his shoulder up to his neck. Doyoung knows there’s marks. Knows there’s two small ones at the base of his neck, low enough that his collar will cover it while he’s at work. 

A hand comes up and pushes Johnny’s away and Doyoung feels his cheeks heat up to the softest shade of pink. “How can I not be?” 

“You’ll do find, Doyoung.” Johnny’s hand slides off his arm, both of his hands pushing their way into the pockets of his pants, letting his shoulders slump as he talks. “You’ve worked on dozens of dolls before. I’m here to help you too, all of us are.” 

Doyoung licks at his lips, letting his shoulders relax along with a sigh. “Thank you.” 

There’s more he wants to say. More words lingering on his tongue, desperate to be spoken. Words that he’s said a thousand and one times already, not only to himself but to others as well. Words that no matter how many times he says it, they don’t feel any more convincing. Doyoung tilts his head as he hears the lock from his bedroom door click again. He feels his chest lift up and tighten when he sees Jungwoo step out. 

Neither Johnny nor Doyoung say anything as Jungwoo walks towards them, steps soft against the hardwood floor. There’s an oversized sweater covering him all the way down to the top of his knees. Loose sweatpants and socks that have polka dots on them cover the rest of him. The mask still covers half of his face, attempting to hide most likely the wounds that are the worst. 

“I should get going,” Johnny lets out a sigh with his words. “Jaehyun doesn’t like when I come home too late.” Doyoung stays quiet while Johnny gives Jungwoo a hug, one that might not even be considered a hug. It’s quick and Johnny’s arms barely make contact with Jungwoo. There’s soft whispers between the two before Johnny moves away. Then there’s a hand on Doyoung’s shoulder, one that lingers only for a moment before Johnny smiles at him. “Let me know if you need anything. Seriously.” 

There’s a nod and then silence. Johnny barely makes any noise as he leaves, the only sound coming from the rain outside when he opens the door and the sound of the lock. Silence fills the room again and suddenly, reality comes crashing down on him when he looks over at Jungwoo. 

For the first time in years of not only being a surgeon but being a doll doctor, that he felt like he didn’t know what to do. Doyoung is at a loss for words. One that has him staring at Jungwoo, brows furrowed and lips pressed tightly together. He knows what to do. Knows he should sit the boy down and ask him for information. That’s what he always does, no matter if it’s a human or a doll. Nothing will come out though, not a single word. 

Jungwoo is the one to run his hand through his hair, damp locks flopping back down and Doyoung can see small droplets of water hit his gray sweater. Doyoung watches as Jungwoo shifts in his spot, toes rubbing against each other against the floor. “Are you scared of me?” 

The question isn’t what Doyoung expected. It makes his lips part and his chest rise with a breath, head tilting slightly at what Jungwoo had asked. “No,” he says, “Why would I be scared of you?” His words come rushed, voice and heart filled with a layer of panic. 

“Because of how broken I am.” Despite Jungwoo’s words, his voice is stable. And for a moment, Doyoung feels his heart skip a beat, knowing that it’s probably a reality that Jungwoo has come to accept. 

“I’m sorry,” a pause before Doyoung bites down on his lip, quickly letting it go to continue speaking. “I’m not scared of you. To be honest, it’s just been a long time since I’ve had to care for a doll.” Jungwoo looks at him, brown eyes filled with emotions that Doyoung can’t read. The way his shoulders tense up slightly and how his fingers curl against his side, does the talking for him. Doyoung blinks, clearing his throat before speaking. “You must be tired, yeah?” 

Jungwoo nods, letting out a soft breath into his mask. “Yes.” 

The doll follows behind Doyoung as he walks down the hall. Doyoung’s hand opens the door to Jungwoo’s room, fingers flicking on the lightswitch, watching the way the room lights up softly. Jungwoo stands close to him, close enough for Doyoung to notice the smell of his shampoo rolling off him, the same shampoo Doyoung used earlier. 

“It’s not much,” he starts as Jungwoo peeks his head into the room, shoulder bumping against Doyoung’s. “I didn’t know what you liked so.” Doyoung bites down on his lip as his words trail off, not really knowing what else to say. 

He watches the way Jungwoo walks into the room, fingers grazing over the dresser that’s pressed against the wall. His head tilts, eyes quietly admiring the lack of decoration on the walls. When he gets to the bed, Jungwoo’s hands reach down, picking up the cat pillow that Doyoung had picked up a few days ago. Doyoung sucks in a breath, for some reason nervous about if Jungwoo will like it or not. The other still says quiet as he makes his way to the window against the wall, fingers gently pushing the curtains out of the way. 

“It’s nice,” Jungwoo says as he turns around, tired eyes looking over at Doyoung who is still standing in the doorway. “Thank you.” The words come out just as tired as his eyes look, they come out with a breath and his shoulders relax as he exhales. 

Doyoung wants to ask Jungwoo if he’s had a room like this before. The words linger on the tip of his tongue, unsure if he wants to assume that Jungwoo’s home hadn’t been great. Even if he is broken, it didn’t mean his living arrangements were. The question quickly gets swallowed when Jungwoo slowly walks over to him. This wasn’t about the past right now. Doyoung would have to ask, he’d have to get the information he needed for treatment but for tonight, it was about the future. 

“My room is across,” Doyoung pauses, body turning and arm pointing at the door. “Oh, right. You already probably knew that.” He parts his lips, chest rising as he lets his eyes stare at the dark wooden door that’s been left open slightly, lamp from the nightstand glowing through the opening. “Your bags are in there right?” 

When he turns around, Jungwoo is already seated on the bed, hands busy adjusting the pillows that sit nicely against the wall. Doyoung watches the way his hands squeeze at the cat pillow, seeing its face become slightly deformed from how Jungwoo is tugging and pulling at it now. Doyoung licks his lips, silently walking across the hall to his bedroom, hand pushing the door open slowly. 

The room smells like lotion, most likely whatever lotion Jungwoo has brought with him. The small suitcase is still upright, standing in the space between Doyoung’s bed and his dresser. The bag that was on his shoulders when he came in, is now on the bed, slightly open and another smaller bag sticking out of it. Doyoung’s fingers linger over the small bag, quietly wanting to know what’s inside. By the looks of it, it’s most likely bandages from the way it bulges out, the kind that Doyoung uses to wrap around patients arms. Doyoung pushes the bag in slowly, zipping up the backpack before sliding it onto his own shoulder. His hand curls around the handle of the suitcase, the sound of it rolling against the hardwood filling the silence.

Doyoung lets out an audible breath when he stops in the doorway. Only the top of Jungwoo’s head can be seen, hair fluffed out along the white of the pillow under him. The blanket is pulled up nearly all the way to his ears, body curled up on his side. He hasn’t been gone more than a few minutes so there’s a possibility that Jungwoo isn’t even asleep, but Doyoung doesn’t make an effort to find out. He walks over slowly, fingers pushing down on the lamp’s switch, watching as the darkness fills the room. With quiet steps, Doyoung walks out of the room. His hand pulls the door closed, fingers lingering a little too long on the doorknob. 

There’s a large part of him wanting to grab his phone and call Yuta. The large part of him that has him walking to the living room, fingers picking his phone up off the coffee table. The same part that has his thumb hovering over Yuta’s name. Doyoung doesn’t know if he can do this. Doesn’t know if he should do this. The thing that makes him shove his phone in his pocket is the way Jungwoo looked at him, eyes full of hope the moment they made contact with Doyoung’s. 

Doyoung could do this. One month is all he needed.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> { warnings: **mentions of past abuse; graphic depictions of medical procedures; graphic depictions of wounds/injuries; mentions of death }**

Doyoung’s fingers flip through a handful of papers. There’s scratchy handwriting scattered along most of the papers. Each one has some type of coffee stain or tear in it that breaks off the paragraphs of barely legible information. Doyoung lets out a soft sigh, letting the papers drop to the table. It’s a rather useless bunch of terrible put together information on Jungwoo. Most of it is what he already knows. Documentation on his injuries and his type, all things that Doyoung has already received. Even if there was new information, Doyoung isn’t sure he’d even be able to decipher it.

Fingers tug his glasses off, setting them on top of the pile of messy papers. He pushes himself up from the chair, making sure it doesn’t drag across the floor loudly because Jungwoo has yet to come out of his room. With equally as careful steps, Doyoung makes his way into the kitchen, hand running through his hair as he stares at his Keurig, eyes blinking slowly in debate. 

Doyoung slips a coffee pod out from the swirling rack next to his Keurig, almost mindlessly going through the steps he takes every morning before work. Fingers pull the empty pod out from the machine, pulling the cabinet open to toss it in the trash as he shoves the new coffee in with his free hand. A black mug is tugged down from the hooks under the cabinet and Doyoung rubs his eyes as he puts it under the machine, finger pushing the button. He waits a moment before it starts whirring before he walks away, leaving it to do it’s own morning routine. 

The sun has finally peeked through the curtains, beams of light making stripes along his wooden floor. Doyoung walks over to the window, tugging the curtains open to reveal the haze of morning that fills the skyline. The sun is reflecting off the tall buildings, making the colors of the sunrise even more vibrant. Doyoung can see the people below walking to their work buildings or disappearing down into the subway station. They’re dressed in their suits and dresses, ready to work their business day, most of them with smiles on their faces because it’s the last day of the work week for them. 

Normally by now, nearly eight in the morning, Doyoung would be setting his bag down in his office. He’d be staring at the board of patients and operations that he needs to get done today, hands busy looking through the files to see what kind of day he’ll have. Instead, he’s grabbing his coffee mug and setting it on the dining room table next to a stack of disheveled papers for the doll that’s sleeping in his spare room down the hall. 

He’s taken the weekend off, letting his small team of two other surgeons take over his appointments for the next few days. He’s made sure they’re nothing too big, not that Jaehyun and Ten couldn’t handle it, but he doesn’t want to risk not only his team being hurt by something going wrong but also Doyoung himself looking bad. This is his job, one he’s incredibly good at and has built a high reputation for himself with. The last thing he needs is a mess up to taint his records. So he’s made the two promise to tell him if an important surgery comes up and promise him that they won’t try to take it on themselves. 

Now instead of looking at a group of patient packets, he’s looking at Jungwoo’s papers. Doyoung has grabbed the packet that Yuta gave him and joined it with the papers from Jungwoo’s creator. He settles back down in his spot, taking a long sip of his coffee, nose scrunching from the lack of milk and sugar and the bitterness on his tongue. Doyoung has to make a plan, has to have a recovery timeline to make sure that he can fix Jungwoo in the month restriction that he’s put on himself. 

If he could, Doyoung would patch him up and send him off to Yuta instead. He would fix him as much as he could during this weekend and then drop him off at the other’s office for him to fix. It’s not that he doesn’t want to help Jungwoo, he does, god he _does_ after seeing the look in his eyes last night, he’s just worried, _scared_. It’s not a matter of him not being able to fix Jungwoo, he can do it with ease. His injuries might be severe, the worst he’s ever seen, but Doyoung has the tools, knowledge, and skill, to fix him up. Doyoung just doesn’t want to get attached. 

As Doyoung flips the first page of his notes, he hears the door creak from down the hallway. He ignores it at first, eyes focused on reading his own handwriting, mind starting to form a plan of how he’s going to fix Jungwoo. He can’t help but let his head tilt back when hears footsteps coming towards him. 

Jungwoo’s hair is in all different directions, brown locks fuzzy and sticking up in places that Doyoung didn’t even know could stick up. His hands are rubbing at his eyes gently, fingers trying to avoid the bandages on his face. It looks like the boy has just rolled out of bed and wandered out. His eyes are barely opened when he stops a few feet away from Doyoung. His mouth opens wide in a yawn, arms stretching up so high that his shirt lifts up and Doyoung feels his heart sink at the sight of several bruises on his sides, ones so dark that Doyoung has to look away. 

“Good morning, Jungwoo,” he says, eyes meeting the others. “I hope I didn’t wake you.” Jungwoo shakes his head, fingers rubbing at his arm slowly as they maintain eye contact. “Are you,” Doyoung pauses, biting down on his lip slowly before turning in his chair to face the boy. “Hungry or anything?” Doyoung waits for a response, waits for Jungwoo to nod his head slowly, before he continues. “I don’t mean to brag but I’m a pretty good cook.” 

There’s the softest of smiles that tug Jungwoo’s lips up. “I would like that.” The boy’s voice is soft, full of sleep still and gentle. 

Doyoung nods, pushing himself out of his chair slowly. He runs his hand through his hair, licking his lips as he stares at Jungwoo. “What do you like?” 

There’s a long pause, one that has Doyoung biting down on his lip, wishing he would have gotten the long list of likes that Johnny had said he found out. That way maybe he could have had breakfast already ready for him. Doyoung makes a mental note to text Johnny while he’s cooking so he can be more prepared for lunch and dinner. 

“Surprise me,” is all the Jungwoo says before he sits down in the chair next to Doyoung. 

There’s a smile that pulls the corners of Doyoung’s lips up due to Jungwoo’s soft voice and the gentle hum that comes from him as he settles himself comfortably in the chair. A smile that stays as he walks into the kitchen and presses his palm against his cheek, mind racing with all the different breakfast possibilities. 

Jungwoo is quiet while Doyoung cooks. He sits rather still, only his legs swinging from the chair and bumping against the table legs every once in a while. Doyoung watches him from the kitchen, watches the way he leans his cheek against his palm, elbow pressed against the table. Watches how his eyes travel over to the stack of paper that’s sitting next to him. When Doyoung turns around another time, he sees that Jungwoo has pulled the papers over to himself, face uncomfortably close to them as he reads. 

“Here,” Doyoung says as he places a bowl in front of Jungwoo, gently grabbing the papers away from him. “Eat instead of reading those.” Jungwoo tilts his head, eyes looking up at Doyoung before he looks at the bowl of food in front of him. “It’s eggs and bulgogi,” Doyoung says quietly. “I know it’s not much but I promise it’s good.” 

Doyoung doesn’t sit back down in his seat. He moves to the chair across from the other. He takes his time eating, much slower than Jungwoo who finishes his bowl in only a few minutes. Doyoung slides his bowl towards the other boy, nodding slowly at him to finish the rest of it. 

“Aren’t you going to still be hungry though?” Jungwoo’s words are soft, like they have been the whole time. His eyes are filled with concern, a seemingly genuine concern for Doyoung’s hunger. 

“You need it more than I do,” Doyoung says quietly, letting a smile pull his lips up. 

Thankfully Jungwoo doesn’t put up a fight and he finishes the rest of what Doyoung didn’t eat. He even whispers a _thank you_ to him when he grabs the bowls from Jungwoo. He can’t help but let his mind wander as he washes the dishes. Doyoung bites down on his lip, eyes watching how Jungwoo sits quietly at the table. He wonders what kind of things Jungwoo used to do with his owner. Would he wake up this early? Would he get a breakfast every morning? The boy is so small that Doyoung doubts he was eating properly. 

Doyoung knows there’s a lot more than physical repairs that he’ll have to do. He knows it’s more than just cosmetic fixes that Jungwoo needs. It’s technically not part of the job, he’s only meant to fix the outside, not the insides. But there’s a level of trust that Doyoung needs to gain in order to fix the outside, especially with someone like Jungwoo. 

While Doyoung doesn’t exactly know the causes of his external injuries, he can take a guess. It hasn’t been confirmed that his creator had abused him, seeing as none of them have really gotten to talk to him, only the short conversation that Yuta had with him when he called for him to come get Jungwoo. Doyoung hates to assume the worst in people but with the state that Jungwoo is in, he can only believe that he’s been through more things than he can bear to think of. 

“Aren’t you going to ask me a bunch of questions?” 

Doyoung looks at Jungwoo as he returns from the kitchen, hands shaking out what water the towel didn’t dry off. “What do you mean?” 

“About you know,” Jungwoo says, eyes blinking up at Doyoung before he shifts his gaze down towards the pile of papers on the table. “What happened.” 

Doyoung sucks in a breath, biting down on his lip slowly before letting his breath out. “Would you like me to ask them now?” 

Jungwoo looks back up at Doyoung, eyes slightly hooded and small pout pulling his lips down. “I just thought you would have by now.” Jungwoo shifts in his seat, hands pushing between his thighs and back straightening. “Johnny asked a bunch as soon as we got in the car so I figured you would do the same.” 

“Of course I have to ask,” Doyoung says, hand running through his hair. “But my first priority is repairing some of your injuries.” 

Doyoung lets his words fade into the air, lips staying parted as he watches the way Jungwoo’s eyes widen slightly, head nodding towards Doyoung. He wishes he could say he won’t pry too much into Jungwoo’s life. He doesn’t want to, he doesn’t want to get involved. He doesn’t want to know the suffering that the boy has endured. Doesn’t want to learn about his hobbies or things he does in his free time. Doyoung doesn’t want to learn about his hopes and dreams for the future. He doesn’t want to know. He doesn’t _need_ to. 

Jungwoo is just a doll. He’s a broken one but a doll nonetheless. After this they most likely will never see each other again. Doyoung will send him off, maybe set him up with a nice job back in Gimpo and make sure he’s okay for a few days before detaching himself from him. Doyoung will go back to his job at the hospital. He’ll work with humans instead of working on Jungwoo. There’s no reason for Doyoung to get involved in his life. Not a single one. 

“Are you really going to fix me?” 

The question breaks Doyoung out of his own thoughts, drops him hard back into reality. Drops him right back into the dining room of his apartment. Right back to looking into Jungwoo’s eyes. There’s the same hope in Jungwoo’s eyes as he saw last night when he saw him for the first time. 

“ _Yes._ ” 

 

 

 

 

 

“Are you okay to take your clothes off?” Doyoung looks at Jungwoo, tilting his head as he looks around the room. “You can leave your underwear on.” 

They’re in Doyoung’s office, the one tucked at the end of the hall in his apartment. It’s got the same dark, modern feel to it as the rest of the home does. White paint with black furniture and simple paintings that fill the walls. It’s a rather small room, just enough space for his desk and a couch to the side. There’s a bookshelf and an organizer that holds a handful of framed certificates that Doyoung has received along with small nick nacks that he found went well with the room. 

Jungwoo doesn’t respond and simply begins shedding his clothes. He folds them nicely and sets them on the couch behind him and when he turns back around to face Doyoung, he can tell that the boy is nervous. Jungwoo has his knees pushed together, arms crossed over his stomach, occasionally dropping down to hide his crotch as he slowly shifts weight from one leg to another. 

Doyoung would be lying if he said he wasn’t nervous as well. He sees his hands shaking slightly as he finishes setting his tools out onto the small rolling cart. Doyoung looks over everything, making sure he has all the things that he’s going to need for an examination. It’s not much, some simple tools and mostly bandages and a variety of creams that he’ll need to use when wrapping Jungwoo back up. His notebook is to the side, filled with his own list of observations that he made from the pictures that were given to him, pen to the side for him to fill out more injuries that he finds. 

Once he knows he has everything, Doyoung quietly excuses himself to go wash his hands. It’s quick, mostly because he knows if he lingers too long, he’ll let his thoughts get the best of him. Even while working on humans, Doyoung is the same. He tends to overthink, wants to make sure he has a plan for every possible outcome. This is just an examination though. He’s not going to do anything other than take note of what he needs to repair. 

Jungwoo is still standing in the same spot when Doyoung returns. He’s chewing on his lip, teeth digging and rolling it slowly. Doyoung sucks in a quiet breath as he pulls his gloves on, forcing out a smile on his lips. “Don’t be nervous,” he says softly, looking at Jungwoo. “It’s just an examination.” 

“What if,” Jungwoo starts, fingers rubbing together slowly, “what if I'm too broken?” 

Doyoung tilts his head, tongue darting out to lick at his lips before he responds. “I told you, I’m going to fix you.” He nods his head towards Jungwoo, brows pushed together. “There’s a reason why they brought you to me. I _will_ fix you, Jungwoo.” Doyoung waits until Jungwoo nods at him, teeth back to digging into his bottom lip, before he begins. “I’m going to take the bandages off of you, okay? Let me know if anything hurts.” 

There’s a soft _okay_ and Doyoung moves closer to the boy. Jungwoo is slightly taller, maybe a few centimeters at most but enough for him to notice. Doyoung carefully takes Jungwoo’s face into his hands, fingertips barely touching at his skin as he stares at the cracks along his forehead. They aren’t deep by any means but they’re _there_ , they’re noticeable to the eye. Doyoung runs his finger across them, watching for any discomfort in Jungwoo’s face in case the boy is too nervous to say anything. 

“Can you feel these?” Doyoung tilts his head, thumb continuing to run over the cracks in his skin, tilting Jungwoo’s head down a bit so he can look at them better. 

“Not really,” Jungwoo says with a breath. “I know they’re there but they don’t hurt.” 

“They aren’t deep enough to actually make your skin break but it looks like you’ve taken care of them. If you didn’t, they would have gotten a lot worse.” Doyoung nods to himself, pushing Jungwoo’s bangs up, frowning at the way the cracks even go past his hairline. 

“They appeared when this happened.” Jungwoo’s hand comes up, gently bumping against Doyoung’s as he points to the spot next to his eyebrow. “I wasn’t able to fix that but I found some kind of cream at home and I used it on the cracks on my forehead.” 

Doyoung bites at his lip, trying to hold back the frown that wants to keep his lips pushed down. “I’m going to take the bandages off your cheeks now, okay? Let me know if it hurts.” 

His cheeks are worse than Doyoung expected them to be. There’s hardly any skin at all when he peels them away, only the red tint of what’s underneath. “Oh, Jungwoo.” Doyoung says with a sigh, one full of sadness that he can't even bother to try and hide. Doyoung feels his throat begin to tighten and he swallows a few times, trying to push away the feeling. 

“I’m sorry,” Jungwoo says quickly, voice slightly shaky as he pulls away from Doyoung enough so his hands slide off his cheeks. “I tried,” he starts as he shakes his head. “I tried to fix them but I don’t know how.” They meet eyes before Jungwoo sucks in a breath, one that raises his whole body before he lets it out, body shrinking down. “I’m not like the normal dolls, am I?” Jungwoo’s eyes are wide, brows furrowed and lips parted. “I’ve watched videos on how to fix dolls and they all get fixed but,” he pauses, fingers rubbing against each other as he looks at Doyoung. “I don’t look like them. My skin doesn’t look like theirs.” 

Doyoung takes a moment to look at Jungwoo, really look at him. Look at the missing skin from his face, the cracks and even the missing tip of his nose. Doyoung looks at the chipped skin along his arms, his left being slightly off due to it being broken. He looks at the hole out of his side, just blankness there, nothing to replace it, nothing that’s inside. Right hand that is clearly broken as well, cracks and chips littering the pale skin. Doyoung sees the dark bruises that cover his torso, ones that are purple and slightly green from the attempted healing. Jungwoo’s right leg is broken, nearly disconnected from his hip and with cracks running all throughout it. Jungwoo is _broken_. He’s completely and utterly broken and Doyoung is surprised that he’s even able to walk. 

“You’re not like other dolls,” he says quietly, letting his eyes meet back up with Jungwoo’s worried ones. “In fact, you’re the only doll I’ve ever seen that’s built like this.” Doyoung reaches over, hands grabbing his stethoscope, slipping it around his neck and tucking it into his ears. “It’s going to be slightly cold, okay?” He sees Jungwoo suck in a breath as the metal touches his skin. “Breathe deeply for me.” 

The first thing that Doyoung notices is the lack of a steady beating. Just like Yuta said, there’s no heartbeat. Jungwoo wasn’t built with one. Though he sounds like he has close to human lungs with the way his breathing is. Doyoung bites at his bottom lip, mind racing with all the possibilities of what Jungwoo’s insides would look like. 

“What am I exactly?” 

Doyoung tugs the stethoscope out of his ears, letting it hang around his neck. He tilts his head, fingers gently running over the missing skin on Jungwoo’s arm, careful not to push too hard on the spot where there’s only red. “The technical name is Human Hybrid Prototype or HHP for short.” Doyoung pulls his hand away from Jungwoo’s arm, kneeling down to look at his leg. Jungwoo shifts a bit, hands coming to cover at his crotch while Doyoung’s hands touch his thigh gently. “Sorry if this is uncomfortable. I’ll only be a minute.” 

Jungwoo nods, shifting a bit before he sucks in a breath. “What does that mean though? Am I a new type of doll?” 

“Not a new type exactly,” Doyoung says, eyes narrowing at the small metal rod that he sees poking out from Jungwoo’s knee. “It’s been around for a while but not one actually makes dolls like that.” Doyoung stands up, eyes meeting with Jungwoo’s again. “The process isn’t exactly,” he pauses, sucking in a slow breath as he lowers his gaze to Jungwoo’s shoulders instead. “Easy and the results never come out good.” 

“But what am _I_?” Jungwoo sounds frustrated. His voice slightly firmer than it normally is. “If I’m not a normal doll then what am I? What makes me different?”

“You’re,” Doyoung pauses, frowning as he presses his lips together. “A HHP is basically..” 

For some reason Doyoung can’t find the words. Well, to be more specific, he can’t find the will to say them. He’s read about HHP’s before, back when he first started getting into fixing dolls. The type is much more complicated than other dolls. Normal ones are built from scratch, completely by hand by a creator. They’re built with artificial insides and porcelain skin. They’re the most common types of dolls though there’s others that have different types of skin and various types of preprogrammed skills. But Jungwoo is much different than them. 

“HHP’s aren’t built like normal dolls,” Doyoung finally says, tilting his head up so he can look at Jungwoo. “You weren’t built from scratch like others. Jungwoo you,” Doyoung pauses again, eyes narrowing and mind racing, trying to figure out how to say it properly. “You were a human once.”

“What?”

It’s the softest question, voice so small and gentle yet laced with an underlying sadness. Doyoung lets his lips curl slightly into a fake smile, eyes meeting with Jungwoo’s worried ones. “Let’s finish the examination.” 

Jungwoo doesn’t push. Doyoung waits a moment, eyes still locked with the boy standing in front of him, waiting for another slew of thoughts to spill out of his chapped lips, nothing comes though. All Jungwoo does is stare back at him, eyes barely blinking and face now bare of emotion. 

The silence is slightly uncomfortable, at least for Doyoung. He’s trying his best to finish the examination but his mind is wandering, racing through the different outcomes if he explains to Jungwoo what’s happened to him. But Doyoung keeps his lips pressed tightly shut, eyes narrowed and focused on recording as much as he can. Doyoung gets the quiet permission from Jungwoo to take pictures of him. The camera only captures the worst of his injuries, the parts that are missing and broken. They’re the injuries that Doyoung will have to order parts for so making sure that he has everything correct is important. 

“Okay,” Doyoung breathes out, setting the camera he uses for work on his desk, free hand running through his hair. “I think I have everything that I need.” Fingers linger in his locks for several more seconds before his arm lands back at his side. “I’m going to put some more cream on the cracks and then bandage you back up.” 

With a gentle nod and a silent sigh, Jungwoo agrees, staying quiet the entire time Doyoung works. 

 

 

 

 

 

“I don’t think he’s been abused,” Doyoung breathes out, back hitting the hard wood of the chair as he reclines, one leg hooking over the other. Arms cross over his chest and his foot bounces gentle against floor. 

Johnny raises an eyebrow at him, lips pressed against his coffee cup. “You think he did them to himself?” 

Doyoung shakes his head, eyes narrowing at his own cup, watching the way beads of condensation slide down the hard plastic, pooling at the napkin under it. “No, I think he was found like that.” Eyes look up from his cup, watching the way Johnny tilts his head back, finishing off whatever is left of his coffee before setting the cup down on the table with a sigh. “I have a theory.” 

There’s a pregnant pause before Johnny lets out a laugh, own body leaning back in his chair. “Well let’s hear it,” he says, fingers threading through his hair before he tilts his wrist, large watch catching the bright fluorescent lights from above. “I only have fifteen more minutes of my lunch break.” 

They’re in the cafe at the bottom of Doyoung’s apartment building, tucked away in the corner near the window. Jungwoo had gone to his room to take a nap and Doyoung used the chance to text Johnny and ask if he’d like to join him for lunch. Once Johnny agreed, Doyoung gathered his notebooks and folders full of Jungwoo’s information and wrote a small note letting the doll know that he’s just gone out for lunch and that he’ll be back soon on the off chance that Jungwoo wakes up before he gets back. 

“I believe Jungwoo was someone important to his creator,” Doyoung shifts, leg sliding off his knee and foot hitting the floor with a loud slap. “He was a sibling, son, relatives, possibly even lover to his creator. Something must have happened to him,” there’s a pause as Doyoung bites down on his lip, tugging it in before parting his lips. “His creator tried to save him by making him a doll.” 

Doyoung watches as Johnny shifts in his chair, elbow pushed against the armrest and fingers tapping at his cheek. “So you think Jungwoo died and his creator tried to bring him back by making him a doll?” Johnny clicks his tongue, head tilting as he sucks in a breath through his teeth. “But his creator isn’t a doll maker is what you’re assuming, yes? That would make sense why he’s so broken.” The older one shift once more, hand reaching out to slide the folder that’s been pushed to the side. “Probably figured out how to do the organ removal and fix his insides enough to get him going but after that he most likely couldn’t keep up with the maintenance that’s required.” 

“It makes sense,” Doyoung says with a sigh. “Hybrids are always made from humans that have passed away or ones on the verge of death. It’s only plausible.” 

There’s a frown that Doyoung watches pull down Johnny’s lips. His elbows land on the table, hands rubbing at his face and fingers threading through his bangs. There’s a soft inhale before Johnny drops one arm, letting it fall against the table, the other pushing his bangs back. “It does sound the most probable.” There’s sadness in his voice, one that Doyoung can feel tugging his own lips down into a frown. “Even if that’s the case, I’m certain that some of his injuries have come from his owner. Though you’ll have to find out from Jungwoo to be completely sure.” 

Doyoung bites at his lip, eyes focused down at the table, watching the way more condensation rolls down the cup in front of him. “I know.” 

An alarm from Johnny’s phone fills the space between them, vibrations making the table shake slightly. The chair screeches against the floor as Johnny stands up, arms stretching out slowly. Hands tuck the papers back into the folder, sliding it towards Doyoung. “I have to get back to work,” he says with a sigh, “I’m assuming you’ll be going over your examination tonight to see what parts you need so just let me know.” The bag that hangs on the chair gets tugged over Johnny’s chest, black strap contrasting with his white button up. “Preferably before seven so I can just stop and check the warehouse before I get home.” 

As Doyoung looks up to meet Johnny’s eyes, the other reaches forward, hand ruffling his hair, much to Doyoung’s displeasure. “It’ll be okay,” he says softly, “Just do what you do best.” 

There’s words stuck in Doyoung’s throat, not budging as he watches Johnny walk all the way out of the cafe. With a twist of his wrist, Doyoung checks the time on the watch that’s glimmering under the lights above him. Quietly, he shoves the folder back into his own bag and gathers the dishes and cups that him and Johnny have made before he wanders back to the counter, wallet in hand. 

 

 

 

 

 

As expected, Jungwoo is no longer curled up in his bed. His eyes are glued to the TV, black knitted blanket covering his legs. Doyoung watches him, noticing the way his lips curl into a smile and then a laugh is heard as he watches whatever variety show that is playing. Doyoung’s hands grip the two cups he’s holding a little tighter as he walks into the living room where the doll is. 

“Do you like coffee?” 

Jungwoo tilts his head, lips parted and eyes blinking slowly at Doyoung. The bandages are still looking nice on his face, the edges haven’t curled and they haven’t become fuzzy from him moving in his sleep. His hair on the other hand is all fluffed up, pieces in the back sticking up and bangs scattered along his forehead. Jungwoo must have wandered out from the bedroom and immediately plopped down on the couch to watch TV after waking up. 

“I don’t know,” Jungwoo says quietly. “I don’t think I’ve ever had it.” 

Doyoung tilts his head, feet moving slowly over to the couch, hands setting down the two cups on the coffee table. “Oh,” he replies, eyes blinking at the two cups, “Well I have a mocha latte and a caramel one so you can choose whichever one sounds better to you.” 

There’s a small hum that comes from Jungwoo, his body shifts, leaning down to examine the cups on the table. He picks up each one, wiggling it before he sets the mocha one down, keeping the caramel in his hand. “I think this one.” Jungwoo lifts the straw to his mouth, taking one long sip before Doyoung watches his face contort a bit. His nose scrunches up and lips curl down as he shakes his head. Eyes meet his as Jungwoo sets the cup down on the table. “Can I actually have the other one?” 

Doyoung lets out a small laugh, nodding his head slowly, watching the way Jungwoo does the same actions as the first time. His reaction isn’t nearly as bad but Doyoung can tell that he still isn’t that fond of the drink. “Do you want me to get you something else? The cafe is in the building, it wouldn’t be any trouble.” 

“No,” Jungwoo says between sips, “This is good. I just have to get used to it.” 

Silence falls over them and Doyoung quickly notices that he’s standing awkwardly to the side, watching Jungwoo drink his coffee. His lips part before pressing together again and then parting once more to speak. “Can I sit with you?” 

Instead of responding, Jungwoo scoots over on the couch, eyes looking up at Doyoung until he slides past him, careful not to bump into him before he settles down next to him. The air between them is odd. It’s awkward and careful and it makes Doyoung sit on the edge of the couch, ready to go busy himself with something else instead of sitting with Jungwoo. 

Doyoung doesn’t exactly know what to do, doesn’t know what to say or how to act around Jungwoo. This isn’t like the other cases he’s worked on. Part of it has to do with Jungwoo’s condition, it’s nothing that Doyoung has dealt with before. Not only is he a complicated type of doll but he’s in terrible shape as well. But Doyoung knows that it’s not exactly Jungwoo that’s the problem. He can think it all he wants, make excuses and try to justify his own nervousness about the whole situation but no matter how much he does that, the other part of him knows that it’s not about _Jungwoo_. 

“Can I ask you something?” Jungwoo’s voice breaks Doyoung out of his gaze that was unknowingly fixed on the edge of the table. His head tilts to look over at Jungwoo who isn’t even looking at him, his own eyes still staring at the TV, straw pressed against his lips. 

“Of course,” Doyoung says softly, tongue darting out to lick at his lips and his hands rubbing at his thighs slowly. 

Jungwoo takes a sip before he reaches forward and sets the cup down on the table. “Why don’t you work on dolls anymore?” Doyoung blinks, slightly taken aback by Jungwoo’s question. He parts his lips but Jungwoo speaks before he can. “I looked you up. I hope you don’t mind but,” he pauses, lips pursing out slightly and head tilting down to look at his lap. “I noticed all your certificates in your office and I got curious.” Another pause and this time Jungwoo looks over at him. “Every article I read said you stopped a few years ago.” 

With a sharp inhale, Doyoung nods slowly, eyes lowering to avoid Jungwoo’s gaze. “I did stop.” 

Doyoung knows he should say something more, something else, _anything_. Jungwoo has every right to be curious about the doctor that’s working on him. The doctor he’s living with and that has promised to fix him. A person that he’s essentially trusting with his life. 

“I don’t think you did anything bad, if that’s what you’re worried about.” Jungwoo’s voice is slightly more firm and Doyoung watches the way he shifts, blanket moving along with him. “I’m only curious because you said you stopped but here I am..” 

It’s hard to wrap his mind around the different possible answers that he could give. He could tell Jungwoo the truth, tell him what happened to make him stop, that would be a smart idea. But Doyoung knows if he does, if he says it out loud, it makes it real again, makes it come back into his life. If he says it out loud, the same thing might happen with Jungwoo. Doyoung knows that Jungwoo could possibly find out, yet Doyoung is hoping that he doesn’t stick around long enough to uncover it. So for now, Doyoung curls his lips up into a smile and looks up at Jungwoo. 

“I wanted to focus more on my hospital job. Another doctor, the one that your creator called asked me to help because he didn’t feel confident about fixing you.” Doyoung lets out a breathy laugh, teeth biting down into his bottom lip quickly before pulling away. “I make an exception every once in a while.” 

Jungwoo’s face lights up. His eyes become brighter and Doyoung swears he sees them sparkle for a moment. His lips curl into a soft smile and the tops of his cheeks become dusted with pink. The sight makes Doyoung’s heart clench, perhaps even skip a beat at the way Jungwoo is looking at him. It’s that same look of hope and excitement even on his face. A look of trust, something that Doyoung knows most broken dolls give out way too easily. 

“Speaking of you,” Doyoung starts as he pushes himself off the couch. “I need to finish writing up a report from your examination. I need to order a few special parts in order to fix you so I need to figure those out and send them to Johnny.” 

“Will Johnny be coming over? I’d really like to see him again.” Jungwoo hums, hands wrapping around the nearly empty cup, pushing the straw between his lips as he looks up at Doyoung. 

“Not today. Actually,” Doyoung blinks, puffing his cheeks out slightly before looking down at the doll. “I forgot to mention, my former coworkers are getting together tomorrow and invited me.” Doyoung pauses, watching the way Jungwoo is biting at his straw, taking small sips every few seconds. “They want to meet you too. I know we only just met yesterday so I understand if you don’t want to join.” 

“I want to go,” Jungwoo says with a smile. “I never really had friends so meeting some of yours sounds exciting.” 

The smile on Doyoung’s lips isn’t like Jungwoo’s. It’s one filled with sadness and a sort of regret in a way. Doyoung can’t even imagine what Jungwoo has gone through. What not only his body but his mind has gone through after he became a doll. Hybrids aren’t like other dolls, they’re not made from scratch, they’re made from someone who was once human. 

Jungwoo did have friends before, at least Doyoung can assume he did. He’s had coffee before too. Jungwoo most likely lived life as a normal human before whatever happened to him and before he became a doll. Jungwoo just didn’t _remember_ any of it. 

“Wonderful,” Doyoung breathes out. 

 

 

 

 

 

Doyoung leaves the door cracked when he walks into his office. The papers are scattered along his desk, having been sloppily set after the examination was done, not bothering to fix them before leaving. There’s scribbles all over the lined paper, words that Doyoung knows he’s going to have to spend time deciphering because he wrote them down too quickly, not thinking of the consequences that would come. 

The papers get put together as Doyoung sits down, chair uncomfortably close to the desk but it’s due to his own doing. His eyes search for the main paper that he needs, one with a simple diagram of a body. The paper is pulled out from the stack and set on top, glasses being pushed up on Doyoung’s nose. 

There’s writing everywhere, nearly covering the whole page with abbreviations and shorthand that Doyoung’s made up for his own use, his own special language of sorts, filled with words that only Doyoung understands. It used to drive the others crazy, specifically Mark when he would have to try and read off what Doyoung wrote. Yuta was better, he had started to learn what meant what towards the end but most of it was still a mystery. Johnny barely even bothered, usually took one look at the papers and would hand them straight back and tell Doyoung to come to him when he’s learned to write properly. 

The words are scattered around the entire page, filling the whole body that’s outlined on the paper. Doyoung reaches across his desk, fingers tugging a large pad of lined paper towards him. The same hand plucks a pen from the holder, thumb clicking it open. Doyoung starts with the obvious, the materials he knows he’s going to need from Johnny. The majority of his fixing will have to do with his skin and because Jungwoo is missing so many pieces and they don’t seem to be growing back on their own, he’ll have to get replacements for the empty spots. 

The most difficult part of working with hybrids is trying to find materials for them. Doyoung has worked on only a handful during his time fixing dolls but he’s studied them more than any other type. Hybrids are dolls that once were human, they once were alive and more often than not, they’re people that either suddenly passed. Most hybrids are humans whose bodies have remained nearly perfect. They’re rare for that reason mainly because it’s terribly hard to find humans that are still young with a body that’s well enough to keep. 

It’s rather hard to explain the process of creating a hybrid and maintaining them. They’re sought after, simply for what they are and the pure rarity of them. Hybrids aren’t usually treated like usual dolls, or so Doyoung has read. They’re almost treated as a sort of treasure, a black market gem to be more technical. Sold for extraordinary amounts of money and more often than not, sold to people who know absolutely nothing about dolls and certainly nothing about hybrids. They need constant care, their bodies are more fragile than those of normal dolls because even if done correctly, there’s parts of them that are still human and unfortunately, those parts eventually fade away and that means upkeep for replacing. 

Their bones are still human, the parts that weren’t damaged during their lives. Their insides are taken out, replaced with doll parts, artificial ones to keep them going for as long as the creator keeps good care of them. Their skin is a mix between porcelain and normal human skin, their bodies adjusting to the vitamins that all dolls are supposed to take. There’s various different parts that are human and parts that are doll machinery, all of which vary depending on the creator. 

In Jungwoo’s case, from what Doyoung got from the examination, his skin is still more human than doll, which explains the large red empty spots that have yet to go back, even with the cream that he’s been applying. It seems that most of his bones are doll parts since he hasn’t expressed any pain when moving around, which would rule out a large amount of human bones, but it’s something that Doyoung will have to confirm with x-rays. The inside is where Doyoung is worried. He has no heart, confirmed by the lack of heartbeat, but Jungwoo sounds like he has human lungs, lungs that will shortly die off if that’s the case. There could be other parts of him that are still human on the insides, parts that make Doyoung press his lips together at the thought. 

There’s still pages of information that Doyoung needs to collect. He has to do a more thorough examination on Jungwoo to determine how much of him is human and how much is doll. From the outside, it seems that he’s more doll, which is a positive thing. The more doll a hybrid is, the easier it is to fix, the easier it is to maintain. If Jungwoo is more human than doll, there’s a chance that due to his current state, his body will slowly fade, parts will begin to die and it will become harder to not only repair but maintain. It’s an extremely fine line and everything has to be balanced in order for him to remain a hybrid. If Doyoung has to replace his human parts with doll parts, it’ll be a much longer process than he anticipated, several months of work and recovery. Months that Doyoung doesn’t want to spend with him. Months he shouldn’t spend with Jungwoo. 

Doyoung bites down on his lip as he reads over his list of materials that he’s created based on the first examination. It isn’t long, only a handful of things that Doyoung is certain that he’ll need. He grabs his phone that’s been buried under a pile of papers, holding it up and taking a picture of the materials, sending it to Johnny. 

There’s a gentle knock on the door and Doyoung looks up to see Jungwoo sticking his head in the gap. “Can I come in?” 

Doyoung nods, eyes narrowing at the time on his phone. “Actually perfect timing. I need to change your bandages.” 

Jungwoo’s nose scrunches up as he steps into the room, lips pursing out into a pout. Doyoung lets out a quiet laugh, sucking in a breath as he pushes himself up from his chair, stretching his legs out for a moment before sliding out from behind his desk. He walks over to the large cabinet, hands tugging open one of the drawers as he slides his cart closer, placing the several rolls of bandages, tapes, and other gauzes that he needs. 

“Are you feeling okay,” Doyoung asks, hands pushing the cart over towards the couch where Jungwoo has placed himself. “In any pain?” 

“Actually, yeah,” Jungwoo breathes out in a sigh, “If I don’t move around a lot, I get sore and stiff.” Jungwoo stands up before Doyoung has to ask, fingers lingering at the bottom of his shirt before he slowly pulls it off, arms immediately wrapping around himself. 

Doyoung chews at the inside of his cheek, brows furrowing as he looks over Jungwoo, noticing the way the bandages have a subtle pinkness to them in some spots. “Well you have several broken bones and you’re missing almost half of your skin so that would most likely be the main causes of the pain.” Doyoung licks at his lips, hands busy tugging a pair of gloves on. “Tomorrow morning I would like to take you to the hospital to get some x-rays done to see what exactly your insides look like. It’ll help me know how to fix you.” 

The bandages come off slowly, Doyoung takes his time, not wanting to cause any more pain to Jungwoo. The ones around his waist are removed first, hands quickly wiping away the dried bits of blood that have stained his skin. The cold antiseptic makes Jungwoo shiver and Doyoung watches the way goosebumps begin to form slightly, barely even there but they’re noticeable. 

“Earlier you told me that you’ve never seen a doll built like me before,” Jungwoo starts as Doyoung begins rubbing cream on his wounds. “All the dolls that I’ve seen, they don’t have skin like mine. They don’t bleed like this, right?” 

Doyoung knows what Jungwoo is pushing towards. Doyoung knows Jungwoo wants answers, like anyone in his situation would. Doyoung just doesn’t know if he can tell him, doesn’t know if he should. Looking at it from a legal perspective, he should. Doyoung should have told him this morning, told him everything so he knows what’s going on. Jungwoo deserves to know, he needs to know. 

“No, they don’t,” Doyoung says firmly, lips pressing together quickly right after. His hands reach for the roll of bandages, gently pulling some apart as he turns back towards Jungwoo. 

“Can you tell me what I am,” Jungwoo says quietly, “Please.” The soft plead makes Doyoung look up at him, hands pausing as they hover over his waist. “I want to know, I want to understand what I am. Maybe,” he pauses and Doyoung lets his hands drop slightly, shoulders slacking. “Maybe I can understand why I’m so broken.” 

Doyoung lets his hands fall to his knees, fingers gripping the roll of bandages tightly. Jungwoo meets his eyes and the look on Jungwoo’s face has Doyoung sucking in a breath quickly, teeth biting down on his bottom lip. “What happened to you? How did you end up like this, Jungwoo?”

For a moment, Doyoung isn’t sure that Jungwoo is going to answer him. He’s almost positive that the boy is going to push back, demanding that Doyoung answer his question first. Instead, Jungwoo lets out a breath, one that’s shaky and Doyoung watches with cautious eyes, watching the way Jungwoo’s brows furrow and his lips press together. He watches the way his fingers play with each other, nervously tugging and cracking his knuckles. 

“You can sit down if you want to,” Doyoung says, “Just be careful not to rub against anything.” 

As Jungwoo sits down on the couch, Doyoung tugs his gloves off, bare hands grabbing the chair from behind his desk and picking up his notebook on the way. There’s a heavy silence that fills the room, one that Doyoung could cut with a knife if he wanted to. There’s a part of him that wants to tell Jungwoo that he doesn’t have to share if he doesn’t want to. But Doyoung knows that he has to, no matter which way he looks at it, Jungwoo needs to tell him what happened to him. Doyoung has come to the conclusion that he needs to know in order to understand better how he's built. Even if it's not descriptive, anything about Jungwoo's past could help him now that he realizes how difficult this is going to be.

 

“It wasn’t his fault,” Jungwoo whispers, teeth quickly digging into his bottom lip. “I know it seems like it was but I promise,” the boy breathes out, fingers rubbing against each other. “It’s not all his fault.” 

Doyoung stays silent, hands on his lap and eyes narrowed through his glasses. He watches the way Jungwoo’s chest rises and falls, much like a human. Doyoung doesn’t want to know, at least he doesn’t want to _want_ to know. Naturally he’s curious about it, all those years as a doll doctor and a surgeon where his job is to care, to learn the stories of patients. Most of the time Doyoung doesn’t technically need to know everything, he only needs to know the bits and pieces that are relevant to his practice. That’s all this is with Jungwoo. 

Jungwoo is far more complicated than he anticipated. The boy is seemingly more human than he thought he was, requiring Doyoung to learn how he got this way, this terrible broken way. It will help him be able to fix him hopefully, if he learns how he was built because Jungwoo has to remember some of it, the parts that happened after he was created. Though it would be a terrible, terrible, lie to say that Doyoung isn’t also curious because he cares, even when he knows he shouldn’t. 

“He was trying to fix me,” Jungwoo starts again, clearing his throat before continuing, “He found me on the side of the road. I didn’t know where I was, I didn’t know who I was, but he took me in, he _helped_ me.” Doyoung nods his head, the suspicion of something having happened to Jungwoo coming true. “It’s all fuzzy,” Jungwoo says, hands waving in the air slightly, “Like a bunch of small dreams that don’t exactly fit together, if that makes sense. I just remember being in the hospital with all the bright lights and then he would be there, then gone, then there again.” 

Doyoung’s hand works quickly on his pad of paper, attempting to write down everything Jungwoo is saying along with his own notes. Jungwoo is constantly shifting in front of him, legs crossing, uncrossing, palms rubbing against his knees and then arms wrapping around his waist. When Doyoung looks up, he sees Jungwoo looking at him, brows furrowed and lips parted slightly. 

“You don’t have to keep going if you don’t want to,” Doyoung says, fingers tapping the pen against the paper. “We can talk about it later-” 

“No,” Jungwoo says quickly, body scooting closer to the edge of the couch. “I want to tell you. It’ll help you right? It’ll help you fix me and then,” he pauses, body slumping slightly as he exhales, “then I can fully understand what I am once I’m all fixed. I’ll be able to understand when I’m better.” 

With lips parting slowly, Doyoung himself adjusts in the chair. His body straightens out, feet flat on the floor as he gives a gentle nod to Jungwoo, thumb clicking at the top of the pen a few times. 

“I kept falling...apart. My skin began to crack and I would pass out all the time. He tried his best, I know he did and I can’t blame for not being able to fix me.” 

“Did he,” Doyoung pauses, teeth biting at his bottom lip before he lets it slide out from his teeth, “Did he ever try and take you to a doctor? If you were in such bad shape, why didn’t he take you to the hospital?” 

“He told me he couldn’t,” Jungwoo says softly, “He didn’t have the money and he told me they wouldn’t be able to do anything for me.” 

“That’s when you found out, isn’t it?” Doyoung looks up from his notepad, lips pressing together tightly as Jungwoo nods. 

“Yes, that’s when I found out that I’m a doll.” Jungwoo licks at his lips slowly, fingers coming up to brush his bangs out of his face. “It’s when I started doing all the research and I tried my best to help him, to help him fix me. It was hard though, because I’m not like the other dolls on all the websites. I don’t have the same parts as them so everything we tried never worked.”

There’s a long pause, one long enough for Doyoung to write down a few more notes. Conclusions that he’s already come to about Jungwoo’s past. Things that will help him be able to fix him easier, the confirmation of him still being mostly human almost there. 

“I’ve done a lot of thinking,” Jungwoo says, voice slightly shaky and a sharp breath being inhaled. “You told me this morning that I was human once. That this is what hybrids are like, half human and half doll. But why don’t,” the pause makes Doyoung look up from his writing, finger pushing up his glasses on his nose. “Why don’t I remember anything from being human?” 

Doyoung sits back in his chair, one leg crossing over his knee and foot waving in the air as he wiggles it slightly. “Because you _died,_ Jungwoo.” 

Slowly, Doyoung watches the way that Jungwoo’s face falls. There’s a thousand different emotions on his face, ones that mix together and create a conflict with his facial muscles, unsure of which to show. Doyoung can’t imagine how he’s feeling right now. Not only is Jungwoo incredibly broken but Doyoung has just had to tell him that he had died as a human, something happened to him to make him pass away, only to be brought back as a doll. 

“That’s how hybrids work,” Doyoung says quietly, lips pressing together only to fall open seconds later. “Hybrids aren’t created from scratch like other dolls. They’re always people that have either died or on the verge of death.” Doyoung lets his eyes fall to his paper, pushing the pen against it and watching the ink begin to create a small circle. “I haven’t been able to get in touch with your creator but if my theory is correct, those memories that you have, the ones that are like dreams, those are when you were passing, Jungwoo. Your injuries are ones that were caused by whatever the cause of death was for you.” 

“I died.” The words are a mix between a statement and a question, Jungwoo most likely uncertain how to process what Doyoung is telling him. 

“Your creator is probably someone that cared about you, he most likely wanted to save you, wanted you to still be in his life. At least that’s the more positive version of why someone would save you. Though I think this is what happened considering your creator called to have you taken away.” Doyoung moves the pen away from the paper, clicking the top of it before he sets it on the notebook on his lap. “I don’t think he had ill intentions. He was trying to save you and simply couldn’t.” 

The sound of Doyoung’s phone beginning to ring from the desk is what breaks the silence that has fallen over them. He whispers a quiet excuse me before pushing himself up off the chair, hand setting the notebook and pen on the desk. With narrowed eyes, Doyoung looks at the name and picture that is showing on his phone. 

“I’ll be right back,” he says as he picks his phone up, eyes looking over at Jungwoo before he begins to walk out of the room. 

The door clicks shut and Doyoung leans back against it, hand pushing through his hair as the phone is pressed against his ear. There’s a quick breath and Doyoung’s eyes close slowly. “Hello?” 

“Hey, Doyoung!” Mark’s voice is loud on the other side, the boy seemingly forgetting that he doesn’t have to scream. “I just wanted to call to make sure you’re still coming tomorrow.” 

With fingers pressed against his forehead, Doyoung lets out a sigh. “Yeah, I am. Jungwoo says he’ll come too.” 

“Oh good,” Mark says with a happy sigh. “I’m excited to meet him. I’m excited to see everyone again too.” 

Doyoung nods his head to himself, silently agreeing with Mark. He’s excited as well, he honestly is. It’s been so long since he’s seen everyone together. Yesterday was the first time he’s seen Johnny in months. The first time he’s seen Yuta in almost a year. Mark is a little different since he lives in the same apartment building and lets himself in more often than Doyoung would like, but even then, before their night at the bar it had been months as well. 

“Mark,” Doyoung starts, the words having trouble coming out of his mouth. They’re stuck in the back of his throat, tightening it up and making it had to swallow. They move into his mouth, to the very tip of his tongue and Doyoung gives a weak attempt at getting them to disappear. Then they push past his lips and before Doyoung can stop them, he’s saying them into the phone. “Are they going to be there?” 

Doyoung doesn’t have to see Mark to know there’s hesitation on his face. It takes one, two, three, four, five, six seconds before he can hear Mark clear his throat on the other side. “Yes, they are.” Another ten seconds before Mark speaks again. “Will you be okay?” 

With fingers pushing through his bangs, Doyoung turns around, hand lingering on the doorknob. “I need to be.” 

Mark wishes him a good night and Doyoung holds the phone up to his ear until he hears the quiet beep and silence from Mark hanging up. The door is pushed open and he’s met with Jungwoo’s eyes. They’re red and Doyoung can see the tears that still threaten to push down onto his cheeks. Despite the tears in his eyes, there's still that glimmer of hope that's there. The eyes that hold such hope and trust to someone that he's only known for a day. The same things that Jungwoo undoubtedly gave his creator. The same eyes that have Doyoung sucking in a breath, feeling his heart skip a beat.

Tomorrow night he’ll get together with all his friends. All his old coworkers, the ones he’s pushed aside for too long. Tomorrow night he’ll invite Jungwoo to meet those friends, the people that are going to help him make sure Jungwoo recovers fast and well. Jungwoo will meet Yuta, he’ll meet Mark, he’ll meet Jaehyun who will be with Johnny. Jungwoo will meet two other people that have strayed away from Doyoung. He’ll meet another doll doctor like Doyoung, one that moved to a different city to open his own clinic. Jungwoo will meet the doll that helps that doctor for the first time. And Doyoung will meet him for the first time since he got his heart broken. 

The doll that made Doyoung stop fixing them, meeting the doll that he's made an exception for. Tomorrow night, Doyoung will introduce Jungwoo to his friends. He'll give him a chance to create his own friends, making the first ones since he became a doll. Tomorrow night, Doyoung will have to face the reality of his biggest fear. He'll have to look the doll in the face, the one he fell so deeply in love with. All while he has another doll next to him, one that doesn't have a heart this time. Yet as Doyoung has already discovered, it's not Jungwoo that's the problem, it's _Doyoung._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> { i know not much happened in this chapter and it's because i realized that this is going to be a lot longer than i anticipated!!! so it's no longer going to be 3 chapters ;;; so things are going to move a bit slower!! }  
> { more will happen next chapter i promise ;; }

**Author's Note:**

> { so this is something ive been working on for a few weeks now and im very excited to share it with you guys! }  
> { i hope you enjoyed it so far <3 }
> 
>  
> 
> { ++ also to be clear, johnny/jaehyun aren't in a relationship, they're roommates/fwb }


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